


Eternally Ephemeral

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Humanstuck, I just realised I should probably tag that, It gets better I promise, Karezi, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, arasol - Freeform, basically everyone is going to be here, dirkjake - Freeform, ill tag ships when the become relevant, janeroxy - Freeform, johndave - Freeform, latuna, literally just me practising for the HSC oop, mituna and latula are married, past davejade, rosemary, same with characters, solara - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of Aradia Megido, the lives of all her friends are changed drastically. </p><p> </p><p>((pretty sure ill never update this lmao sorry maybe one day ill be a convenient mixture of bored and guilty enough to write more but its unlikely))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sollux

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry for how much this will jump around, there will be a LOT of POV jumps. maybe ill just craft an apology dance to make up for all my wrongdoings.  
> I am a terrible dancer so thats probably a bad idea.  
> anyway there will be more tags added as the story progresses (as soon as a character is mentioned, ill tag them).  
> it takes a while for some of the relationships to make an appearance but all of them are in there.  
> its like an incredibly shitty luck dip except you know what youre getting, you just dont know when youll get it.  
> spooky.  
> QUICK NOTE: the first few chapters are really shitty I am sitting here like wow fuck hindsight is a bitch, please persevere bc it gets mildly less awful as stuff actually happens  
> anyway bon appetit or whatever (I dont really know what else im supposed to say here)

Your name is Sollux Captor and right now you would rather not talk about your name. You’ve always hated it.

Aradia Megido.

Now that’s a good name.

A perfect name, any way you say it, it sounds so beautiful.

You can sigh it, breathlessly, and it feels like the sun.

 Scream it angrily and it moves mountains.

You can shout it into an empty chamber and listen to it echo forever.

You can sing it, laugh it, moan it and it never loses its shine, never ceases to amaze you that such a perfect name could possibly be real, let alone the person to whom it belonged.

 You didn’t think something so beautiful, so faultless could exist in this pointless shit stain of an existence, and you certainly didn’t think she could ever love you.

But she proved you wrong. She always proved you wrong (although you’d never admit it).

She did love you, even if you have no idea why. You had a lot in common but where you were boring, moody, difficult to like- she was alive, in more than the technical sense of the word. It was as if she was the pin point centre of the universe and everything moved around her. She could be sleeping and she still pulsed with life, bending the world to her whim.

She was limitless.

She was open grassy plains, endless jagged cliffs, unknowable oceans.

 She was the sky in the morning and the stars at night.

She brought the cool breeze on hot days, she coloured the leaves in autumn, she made it new, fresh, and exciting in spring,

She was your everything, and now she’s gone.

She gave you meaning, made you believe that maybe you weren’t worthless, because you mattered to her. She trusted you and let her down.

What does it mean to be alive when what made you feel that way is dead?

Your name is Sollux Captor, and it’s all your fault.

“It’s not your fault” you hear someone say. Are they sitting beside you? You aren’t sure. You don’t care anyway because they’re wrong.

It is your fault. It’s all your fault.

“Sollux.” is it the same person talking? Probably. You don’t have many friends, but you don’t care about that either.

“Sollux.” They say again.

Stop. You want them to stop saying your name. You want them to stop fucking reminding you of who you are. You never wanted to be you. You never fucking asked to be a useless, pathetic asshole with a stupid name.

“Sollux look at me.”

No. You don’t want to. You don’t want to open your eyes. You want this to be a dream, a fucking awful shitty nightmare. You want to wake up with Aradia in your arms.

 Beautiful, perfect, alive, Aradia.

“For fucks sake I am trying to be a supportive friend. Look at me you brain dead asshole.”

It’s Karkat. You almost want to laugh. And then cry. And then punch him in the face. And then throw yourself off the top of the building probably.

“You don’t have to be here.” You whisper, eyes still closed. You can’t lose control. Not while he’s around. Not again.

“Fuck you I don’t have to be here,”  you clench your fists tighter in your lap, “I’m leaving  to get you a change of clothes because, right now you look like a fucking serial murderer or some kind of weird fetishist and all these pieces of shit are staring at yo- TAKE A FUCKING PICTURE WHY DON’T YOU?”

You hear him stand up.

“I’ll be back in like, 10 minutes tops.”

He’s still standing there, probably waiting for some kind of confirmation, a sign that you understand he’s coming back and won’t throw yourself off the top of the building just yet.

“Whatever.”

He huffs, but that seems to satisfy him and he leaves, muttering something about ’motherfucker’ under his breath.

Your name is Sollux Captor and you wish it was you.

It should have been you.

“Excuse me, are you here for Miss Megido?” A woman (or at least you assume she’s a woman) with a faint British accent asks you (or at least you assume she’s asking you).

You open your eyes slightly and raise your head to look at her. She has dark green eyes and silver hair. She is short and almost skeleton thin. She needs to get a sandwich in her.  She needs to iron her scrubs.

“Are you here for Aradia Megido?”

She needs to stop asking questions. You nod slightly.

“Is there anyone else we should contact?”

She needs to stop talking.

“I’m sorry dear, but we really need to know if there is any more family that should be here.”

She needs to leave you alone.

She needs to go away.

She isn’t doing either.

“Please.”

You breathe in deeply, so deeply your lungs hurt- it’s more oxygen than you feel like you can take, but you’re still suffocating.

“She’s dead.” You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering. It’s halfway between a statement and a question.

The doctor (or nurse, you don’t know the difference anyway) looks away from you.

“I’m so sorry.”

And then you snap under the weight of yourself. You let out a strangled sob and bury your face in your hands.

She rests her hand on your hunched over back but you shrug her off. You don’t deserve consolation. You don’t deserve shame, so you let it go and break down right here in the waiting room of this godforsaken hospital.

It was you. You killed her.

You’d been deluding yourself into believing that maybe she’d be okay, maybe she would undo this, but in the end that’s all it was. Delusion.

 Right from the start you knew she was dead. You held her to your chest, you grasped at the back of her limp head, you tried to pull her into yourself, where maybe you could protect her. But it was you that she needed to be protected from. It was you who crashed that car.

 And now, it’s her, in that cold, empty room, it’s her lying dead and alone.

And it’s you, broken and covered in her blood; it’s you who’s still alive.

You’d said her name in every way you could have possibly imagined, but you’d never sobbed it mixed between incomprehensible apologies, laced with regret and futility.

And even then, it still sounded beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((the nuse was calliope))


	2. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a shower, some memories, and wasted stir fry

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re a fucking amazing friend. That was a joke, you’re a fucking terrible person- but at least you know it, they have to give you credit for that.

Not that your unfathomable assholery would stop you from forcing your best friend to move in with you after the death of his girlfriend. You know enough about Sollux to know what Sollux would do to himself if he was alone. Which you also know he would insist on being.

But you couldn’t let him do that. You may be a steaming bag of trash, but he’s your best friend and you don’t really want him to die.

Most of the time, at least.

So when he called you, screaming and sobbing, you already knew you had to kick well and truly the fuck into gear and raid his shitty little apartment and spirit all his stupid bullshit computers and whatnot away into your equally shitty, but not as little, apartment.

When you heard him chocking on the word ‘Aradia’, you knew that this was not something that could be fixed with a bottle of jaegarmiester and some shitty movies you could both make fun of.

When you arrived at the hospital to find him covered in blood, hunched over, eyes closed, you knew.

\-----

A shower and a change of clothes doesn’t change anything, but it’s a start.

You peek into the bathroom.

“Do you need help or are you still a capable fucking human being?”

You receive no response, but the middle finger Sollux thrusts at you through the shower curtain answers your question well enough and you close the door.

“Asshole.” you murmur.

 Sollux in your shower. That brings back memories. Most of which you’d rather forget, but some of which you only claim you’d rather forget.

 But that’s all they are now, memories.

You’ve both moved on and it’s better that way.

You place the thoughts out of your head and make your way to the kitchen- little known fact; you’re a fucking amazing cook. That one wasn’t even a joke you actually are.

You forage the cupboard for food, but of course your stoner asshole roommate has cleaned you out YET AGAIN.

Fucking Gamzee.

You scowl to yourself and wonder why the hell you even put up with his insufferable clown-ass shenanigans, but then remember it’s because he’s loaded and you are poor as shit. You don’t even know where he got all that goddamn money, probably inheritance, but for some insane reason or another he actually thinks you’re friends. And hey, it’s better than living on the street and drinking your own piss.

Not that you’ve done that- you have some fucking shreds of dignity.

You grab the jar of rice you always have in the house. There is always rice because Gamzee doesn’t know how to use the stove. He literally cannot boil a pot of water, you don’t even know how he functioned before you (reluctantly) agreed to live with him.

You open the fridge and search its sparse shelves. There are a few sad looking vegetables and you throw them onto the bench, it’s not going to be great, but if anyone can make something edible, it’s you.

You go through the motions, chopping, dicing, boiling water (because unlike some people, you can actually do that).

You realise the shower has been off for a while now, but Sollux still hasn’t left the bathroom. You consider checking, but decide against it because you’ll be fucked if he isn’t a grown ass man who can take a shower by himself.

But your mind begins to wander to the razors in the top drawer, and the bleach under the sink and a creeping worry gnaws at the bottom of your stomach. You glance over your shoulder at the bathroom door just in time to see the handle turn and your, thankfully unscathed but half naked, best friend walk out.

“You shower still fucking sucks.”

He goes into the room where he knows you’ve put all his stuff, this isn’t the first time you’ve gone above and beyond and deserved the fucking awesome friend of the year award.

You know he won’t come back out, and you aren’t going to try and make him. You already made sure to take out all the shit you could possibly think of that he could use to do himself in with. You’re pretty sure he’s not looking to kill himself, but you can’t be too careful.

Truly the best friend is you.

“Do you want something to eat or not?”

No answer.

“Knock once for yes knock twice for no.”

“Fuck off.”

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it.” You mutter as you make your way back to the kitchen and throw half the makeshift stir fry, that will probably be WASTED thanks to some inconsiderate jerk who doesn’t appreciate your tireless efforts, into a container and put it in the fridge.

You pull out a chair and sit down at your dining table and open your laptop to see who’s online. Not that you’ll fucking talk to any of them. It’s become a pointless exercise, but one of habit.

Terezi’s online, but you don’t think you’ll be able to stomach another conversation with her right now. Her stupid, hyper aggressive bullshit can wait until another time.

Equius is online too but fuck that guy.

You shut your laptop with a sigh and go to take a mouthful of your improvised meal, but suddenly find yourself not hungry. Usually you’d eat it anyway, but you can’t bring yourself to put anything in your mouth. Only now has it hit you that Aradia is dead.

You place your bowl in the fridge next to the container filled with the same, now, unappetising slop. Gamzee will eat it; he’ll probably get a kick out of having prepared food waiting for him in the fridge with no idea where it came from.

You feel a creeping sadness, you didn’t know Aradia that well besides hanging out with her while hanging out with others, but you didn’t mind her. She was a bit too enthusiastic for your tastes, but god knows she was more tolerable than most of the skid marks you somehow found yourself unlucky enough to be friends with.

And although you didn’t know her very well, you know how much Sollux loved her.

You switch off the lights and stand for a moment in the darkness. You sigh heavily and roll your head back slightly. You’re tired but you already know you won’t sleep tonight.

Lying in bed, you stare at the ceiling, pretending that you can’t hear the muffled sobbing coming from the room next to yours, and pretending even harder that you don’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /violently whispers karezi


	3. Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an arguement, pancakes, and Indiana Jones

“Sollux!”

“Hey what’s up A?”

“Guess what I found!”

“A life maybe?”

“No.”

“Something to do other than call me at 3am asking me to guess what you found?”

“Ha, very funny.”

“Are you going to tell me what you found or are we going to keep playing this fucking stupid game some more?”

You can practically feel her rolling her eyes at you, “I found a map.”

“What! REALLY? A MAP!?”

‘You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, why couldn’t you have called me at a decent fucking hour, like say in the afternoon?”

“Well I just found it, like, right then.”

“Couldn’t it have waited? Come on A, the idea of sleep may be foreign to you, but I require it sometimes.”

“Well obviously it could have waited but that would be pointless seeing as though I’m outside your house.”

“You’re what.”

“Stop asking questions and look outside!”

You get out of bed and stumble through the dark to your window. You part the blinds and peer through them. Sure enough, there she is, standing across the road under the pale light of a streetlamp and waving to you excitedly.

You wave back unenthusiastically but it’s hard for you not to smile.

You love her.

“Well are you coming out??”

“A, it’s snowing.”

“And?”

You groan. You hate the cold. You also hate the heat. You hate the weather. Fuck the weather.

“How about you come inside instead?”

You see her frown and laugh to yourself. She beckons to you impatiently, and you’ll be damned if you can resist her.

“Fine, give me a second.”

You hang up but almost immediately she calls you back.

“Don’t you hang up on me Sollux; you aren’t getting out of this one.”

“I’m not trying to, but for the record, I think this is dumb.”

“You’re dumb. Get your finicky behind out here.”

“Just give me a minute to put on some clothes Jesus fucking Christ we don’t all have superhuman intolerance to the cold.”

“Stop being such a baby.”

You shrug on a jacket and some long pants.

Just for good measure, grab an extra jacket for your insane girlfriend who thinks it’s okay to stand outside in minus-fucking-two in a t-shirt.

“It’s not ‘minus-fucking-two’ you big drama queen.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes, you do.”

You grab your keys and lock the door. Your apartment is unimpressive to say the least, but you have a good couple of thousands of dollars worth of computing equipment in there that you really don’t want stolen.

You make your way down the stairwell and to the big double doors that lead out onto the street. She hasn’t noticed you yet and is still staring eagerly at your bedroom window.  

You love her.

“Hey! I was starting to think you wimped out on me.” She teases as you walk across the empty street towards her.

You toss her the jacket, “don’t die of hypothermia please.”

She scoffs but takes the jacket anyway. It’s too big on her by about 5 sizes, but what else can be expected when you’re 6 ft 2 and she barely makes it up to your shoulder. It’s not the first time she’s worn your clothes, not by a long shot, but you still grin like the idiot you are to see her in them.

“You’re so tiny.”

“Shut up,” she punches you in the arm, “where’s your car parked?”

“My car?”

She rolls her eyes at you. Her big, beautiful, brown eyes.

“Yes, Sollux, your car. Where is it?”

“Its, uh,” you point down the street, “Down a little that way. Why?”

“Because we need to go places,” she grabs your wrist and tugs you along behind her, “come on!”

“Aradia.”

“Yeah?”

“What about your car?”

“What about my car?”

“Where is it?”

“At my house, probably.”

“Wait,” you stop, “Did you walk here?”

She turns to you and shrugs.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s not that far.”

“It’s at least a 40 minute walk and it’s freezing, A.”

“Sollux it’s not a big deal stop being a hypochondriac.”

 “We aren’t going anywhere you’re coming inside.”

She groans at you, “I’m fine, seriously.”

“Aradia,” You’re starting to get mad, “I’m not fucking around I will carry you if I have to.”

She may be a head shorter than you but she sure can stare you down.

The street is silent around you; cars usually don’t pass by here, but especially not at this time of night. The snow is still falling gently and slowly covering the sidewalk in white. Some lays to rest in her hair and on her shoulders.

You love her.

“Please,” You say. No, you beg. You don’t want to be mad at her, hell, you can’t be mad at her- you just want her to be safe. And she’s right, you are a drama queen, but you’d rather overreact than have her freeze to death in the middle of the road. “I’m sorry I yelled, please just come inside.”

The defensive tension leaves her shoulders, “You really don’t need to worry, I promise, I’m fine.”

You look away from her, but grab her hands in yours. As fucking usual, you’re a giant asshole and ruin all her plans. Why does she even want to be with someone like you when all you do is shit all over everything she gets excited about? She could do so much better than you. You are garbage.

“Fine,” she squeezes your hands, “I’ll come inside, but after that we’re going.”

Although you don’t deserve to, you kiss her, and by some miracle, she kisses you back.

\----

It’s 4am and you are eating pancakes with your girlfriend while watching Indiana Jones for at least the third time this week. She fucking loves this movie, you think its okay at best, but at the moment feel obligated to humour her questionable tastes in visual media.

Its 4am and she is laughing at you because you put honey on your pancakes. You put honey on a lot of things; she’s tried to wean you off it, but has given up in favour of just teasing you about it. You smear some on her nose and she wipes cream on your face in retaliation. You lift her onto the kitchen bench so she’s at your eye level and kiss her. The pancakes are burning but you don’t care.

It’s 5am and the sun is coming up, you think the same movie is still playing, but neither of you are paying attention to it anymore. You’re preoccupied with other things.

It’s 6am and you are asleep on the couch with Aradia in your arms. You can feel her beside you, breathing slowly. You can smell her, her hair tickles your face and your nose sweeps the nape of her neck. You slowly open one of your eyes; you just want to look at her.

But then she’s gone. Your arms are empty and you are alone. The only thing you can smell is the musty stain of what could be mould from Karkat’s neglected guest bedroom and the only thing you feel is this abyssinal aching in your chest.

Your memories turn to ash in your mouth and your happiness is a shadow in a room filled with darkness.

It’s 6am and you still love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they totally fucked


	4. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a great friend, a tired juggalo, and a shitty car

Continuing your stint as the world greatest best friend you call into Sollux’s work for him to tell them he probably won’t be coming in today. Which is a big fucking deal for you, because it means you have to actually converse with his anime haired fuck of a boss.

You hate Dirk Strider.

They’re the same age, but lo behold this pretentious asshole is some kind of autodidact prodigy and god damn does he act like it.  
You actually have a form of begrudging respect for Sollux simply because he hasn’t blown his brains out already, working for that insufferable prick alongside who may just be the biggest tool in all existence, it would be understandable.

You hate Equius Zahhak.

Why are technological geniuses (or as you like to call them: fucking nerds) always such douches?

You groan quietly to yourself as the phone begins to dial.

It barely rings once before you are (unfortunately) answered.

“State your business.”  
His words are sharp as usual, but he sounds like he’s just woken up. You keep any smartass comments to yourself and decide to try and keep this as quick and painless as possible.

“Sollux isn’t coming into work today.”

You can hear someone talking in the background and Dirk sighs in response.

“Fine.”  
He hangs up. 

You stare at the phone, dumbfounded. Did he seriously just hang up on you, who the fuck does he think he is? You consider calling him back and tearing him a new one, but settle for just scowling and tossing your phone aside instead. 

At least it was quick. 

You knock on Sollux’s door, “I called Strider, you’re staying home.”  
You didn’t expect him to respond, but still get annoyed when he doesn’t.  
“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You try to be understanding but you can’t help but get mad at him. You get mad at everyone. You begin to walk away but then he calls your name quietly from inside the room.

“Karkat.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“That’s what friends do,” you say, and for good measure add, “fucktard.” 

He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. 

You glance over at Gamzee who’s sleeping in a somewhat unorthodox position on the couch. 

And snoring. 

Of course he’s snoring. 

You grimace at both the thoughtlessly loud sleeping clown, and the empty container of last night’s stir-fry. It’s lying on its side, suspicious looking juices pooling on the glass coffee table. 

“Gamzee,” You call half heartedly from across the room, “Wake up you unfathomable juggalo dickweed.”

He doesn’t even stir. Why are all the people in this house so fucking difficult? You scoop up the leftovers and briefly search for the cutlery, but surprise surprise he probably ate it with his fucking hands because what else could you even expect from him.

You throw the container in the sink, you’ll wash it later. Maybe. 

Actual fucking housewife Karkat Vantas.

Your phone is vibrating on the bench where you tossed it before. You glance over at it and consider just letting it ring out and whoever wants to talk to you can go and fuck themselves. But consider it is all you do and you pick up without checking the caller ID.

“What.”

“KARKAT!"

You curse fervently under your breath. God damn it.  
Of course. OF COURSE. Just when your day couldn’t get ANY FUCKING BETTER.

“What the fuck do you want Terezi.”

She tsks you, “Always so angry,” she cackles into the receiver, “Lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m not cute, I’m fucking hardcore.” 

She laughs. You can never tell if she actually constantly has bad intentions, or is just cursed with a suspicious laugh. That would also go hand in hand with your doubt as to whether she actually is genuinely amused by things, or just laughs as a go-to. You don’t understand this girl and talking to her gives you a headache. 

“Okay, whatever you say, Babyhands.”

You scowl. Curse your infantile appendages. 

“Did you actually call for a fucking reason or just to make my life even more of the living hell it already is?”

She screeches like either someone too easily amused or someone on a quest to enslave humanity.

You wouldn't mind being enslaved by her to be honest. Wait. No. that’s not what you meant. Fuck you for even thinking- you know what you aren’t even going to dignify that comment with a floundering attempted explanation. Fuck you for being an idiot.  
You press your fingers into your forehead and suppress a groan. You are usually a moron- and now you’re a flustered moron. A combination truly made in hell and stamped on you as punishment for whatever the fuck you must have done in a past life. Whatever it was it must have been terrible. 

Your spiralling whirlpool of self loathing is interrupted by the possible-sociopath on the other line.

“I tried calling Sollux but he didn’t pick up,” You feel your chest tighten, “Do you know where Aradia is?”

“Uh,” You stutter. 

Oh shit.

“W-what do you need her for?”

“I need her to drive me into school, seeing as though the law dictates I not drive me anywhere, on account of my ‘disability’.” 

Oh fuck that’s right. 

“I can, uh, drive you,” What are you getting yourself into, “if you want.”

The line is silent for a few seconds- she’s obviously suspicious, she is a fucking law student after all.

“Great I’ll be waiting.”

She hangs up. She knows you’re hiding something. She always knows. You bash yourself in the face with your phone a few times and suppress the urge to scream.  
You didn’t even consider that you’d have to tell people. God knows you don’t want to fucking talk about it. But the more you think it over, the more sense it makes. You came back and found Sollux, to put it lightly, making a scene, so you took him home straight away (after politely telling the nurse who kept asking for family details to go and fuck herself with her stethoscope).  
The police should probably come to question him soon; you’re surprised they haven’t already. But you can deal with that as it comes. By deal with you mean tell them to go and fuck themselves with their batons, because that’s how you deal with things.

You are the classiest Vantas. 

You knock on Sollux’s door again. The knocking is really just a courtesy, since you have zero intention of actually going in, it’s more of a ‘hey asshole I’m about to say some things so listen up’ kind of action.

“I’m going out but Gamzee’s here if you need something.”

You hear a muffled ‘fuck’ from inside and grin.

“I’ll be back later.”

You grab your keys from the basket on the kitchen bench and quickly scrawl out a note for the other bane of your life. 

My god you really are the world’s greatest friend it’s no wonder everyone loves you so. 

It’s freezing outside and you almost go back inside to get another jumper, but grunt a negative to yourself, because that would mean climbing back up three flights of stairs and you’re not a fucking athlete. 

Your car is the shitty little grey Volvo. You usually go out of your way to park as far away from everyone as possible because for some reason or another, ‘let’s dent the living shit out of Karkat’s car’ is the favourite sport of this apartment block. 

Sollux once made a joke that it was because of your name.  
“CAR-kat, geddit, like a car.” Then he laughed like the giant obnoxious tool he is.  
By ‘once made a joke’, you actually mean that he made the same fucking joke every single time your car was assaulted. Every single fucking time without fail.

The car makes a sick sounding rattling noise as you turn the ignition.

“Come on come on come on,” You mutter under your breath,”Start you motherfucking useless metal turd.”  
The engine splutters to life as though on queue and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Turning out of the car park, you start to wonder what you’re going to tell Terezi and whether or not you can get away with telling her nothing. Probably not, that girl has a nose like a bloodhound and could probably smell the deceit.

She really is the most difficult and terrifying person you know, so why do you love her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg ty for the kudos im just gonna be here quietly squealing  
> 


	5. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a heavy sleeper, lame boyfriends, and an interruption

Your name is Dirk Strider and you’re asleep right now. Jake would debate your definition of sleeping, but it’s as close as you get. It’s not your fucking fault, not everyone sleeps like they’re dead drunk and hibernating every night. Really, it’s expedient being hyper aware all the time, especially when your boyfriend is constantly in a state of oblivious naivety. 

It’s charming, but inconvenient. 

You can feel him next to you, you can feel his arm draped across your chest, that’s the obvious one. But if you concentrate, you can feel his toes almost touching the arches of your feet, you can feel his breath on your upper ribcage, and you can feel that he is currently in the middle of what you have dubbed ‘Jake-sleep’.  
A term you so lovingly coined referring to the ability he has somehow developed which allows him to remain sleeping throughout pretty much any event you could have dreamed up.

You’re not even fucking kidding this boy is a world class sleeper, somebody give him a gold medal, send him away to the sleep-Olympics. 

You have tried everything, and you mean everything but nothing seems to work. Except, of course, when you do things and intentionally try and not wake him up.  
He is a fucking pain in your ass. 

In more ways than one, really.

You smile to yourself, not just because you’re hilarious, but because- for the first time in a long time, you’re happy.  
Not that you’d go around spreading that information. Nobody must know that the one and only Dirk Strider has become a lame and sappy fucktard who likes to appreciate his boyfriend.  
None can know. 

Jake moans sleepily and shuffles closer to you and you reflexively open your eyes.  
He always sleeps with his mouth open, and as a result, 90% of the time drools everywhere. It just so happens today is no exception and his pillow is covered in damp splotches. Gross.

He is the world’s biggest dork but you love him.

“Hey,” You shake him gently, already knowing he probably won’t react, “Captain Drool, all aboard the good ship wake the fuck up.”

He groans in response and moves his head so he’s face down.

“You’ll drown in your own spit if you sleep like that,” You move to so you can whisper in his ear, “a lost soul in an endless ocean of saliva.”  
He lets out a muffled giggle.

“He lives, oh joyous day.”

Jake pushes your face away with the hand he isn’t sleeping on and mumbles something at you.

“What was that?” you smirk at him, even though he can’t see you, “You’ll have to speak up.”

He turns his head to look at you, his dark green eyes challenging you and a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He says nothing.

“So you have nothing to say?” You bring your face right up close to his, challenging him right back, “What a pleasant turn in events.”

He stifles a grin as you fluidly push him onto his back and sit on top of him, faces close the whole time.

“Not fighting back?” You hook your thumb in the elastic of his underwear, “That’s unlike you.”

“Ow!” He squeaks when you let go and the elastic slaps his hip, “I believe that could be classed as domestic violence.” 

You smirk, “Could it now?”

“Yes,” He hooks his arms around your back and pulls you closer, “And I just so happen to know a lawyer, so consider your hiney roasted.”

You chuckle lightly, “Oh shit, should I start running?”

He gently sweeps some stray locks out of your eyes, “You’ll have to live on the run for the rest of your days, like a right old-timey renegade.”

“What if they catch me?” You press your forehead to his, “Do you know what they do to pretty boys like me in prison?”

He breathes out heavily, obviously amused, “I’ll rescue you, my damsel in distress.”

“You’re the one persecuting me in the first place,” You slip your hand between his legs and thumb his thigh, teasing him, “Do you see the flaw in your logic?”

He moans slightly and you grin. You love power, and right now you have all of it. 

“Bottom bitch Jake English.” You whisper.

He pulls you down and kisses you deeply, and you return the favour with no hesitation. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you work your hand closer to the growing bulge in his underwear. You can see the impatience growing in his face from under your lashes and you smirk again. 

You can feel him trying to speed things up, so you purposely slow everything down and he lets out something akin to a growl. 

You move you face away from his and kiss along the line of his jaw until you reach the crook of his neck. You nip him lightly and his chest rises sharply. His hands slide from your back, to your shoulder blades, and then to your chest, where they come to rest. You wonder what he’s doing and then you realise. He’s feeling your heartbeat.

You stop and pull away from his neck to look at him. God damn it.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks, voice filled with concern.

“No, you beautiful idiot.”

You kiss him again, but this time gently, and lovingly.  
Sometimes you forget how hard it was for you two to get here. You forget how much work it took for you to understand each other. You forget that you are allowed, no, required to show him how much you love him. You’ve been so afraid that he would run away from you again, that you forgot. 

“I love you.”

He looks shocked for a few seconds but then cups your face in his hands and smiles as if he’s the luckiest man alive.

“I love you too, Dirk.”

You go to kiss him again but then your phone rings. You both groan in, arguably harmonic, unison. 

You hastily roll off Jake and grab the phone and glance at the caller ID.

“Fuck,” You hiss under your breath.

You strongly dislike Karkat Vantas.

You answer quickly, deciding to get this over with as quickly as possible so you can go back to being incredibly lame with your boyfriend.

“State your business.”

“Sollux isn’t coming into work today.”

Oh shit, you’d forgotten you had to work today, fuck it, you’re the boss and you do what you want. 

“What is it?” Jake asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

You sigh and consider the fastest way to end this conversation. 

“Fine.”

You hang up and throw your phone across the room; you have much more important things to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this is v poorly written but im very emotional over my boys


	6. Gamzee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ghost (?), some miracles (??), and friendship (???)

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you are pretty sure your house is haunted right now. There’s this weird groaning noise coming from one of your spare rooms and it’s scaring the mother fuck out of you. You called out to the ghost a while ago, offering him a brownie or a Faygo or something, but he must not be hungry. Do ghosts even eat? Probably not on account of them being dead and all, but who are you to question the mystery of the afterlife?

Your best fucking friend in the whole entire world didn’t mention a ghost in the note, but he might have just not wanted to worry you while he went out to get some anti-ghost voodoo, or a book of purifying spells, or the motherfucking Ghostbusters or something. 

GAMZEE DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING TOUCH ANYTHING, IF I COME BACK AND I FIND OUT YOUR STINKING CLOWN ASS HAS FUCKED WITH ANY OF MY SHIT I WILL BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN JUGGLING CLUBS. STAY OUT OF THE GUEST ROOM.

He’s obviously just looking out for your safety in his own special way.

How did you get such a great friend?

Miracles, probably. 

Oh man, you don’t even want to get started on miracles. You could just zone way the fuck out and revel in, just, the whole universe. Oh man.  
How did you get such a great house? Who pays the rent? How did you get home from kickin it at your buddy Tavros’ place last night? Where did that delicious meal in the fridge that awaited you on your return come from?

Mother. Fucking. Miracles.

You are truly blessed by the mirthful messiahs. Amen brothers and sisters. Amen.

In a way you guess that ghost is now your houseguest, he’s a miracle too, you suppose.

You smile, yeah.

“Ghost-bro,” You call out to the guest room (still a few feet away, just in case), “I love you, and it’s cool if you wanna crash here a couple days, please just, don’t like, possess me or anything. We can slam some Faygos and watch cat videos on the internet- no need for all that ghosty shit, you dig me brother?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You gasp. It spoke. Oh god the ghost, it- it spoke to you.

“On behalf of the living world I welcome you, ghost-bro,” wait was that a mean thing to say, “Unless that was offensive to you or something, then fuck that I’m here to be your buddy. Yeah.”

“Gamzee what the fuck?”

It knows your name.  
How?  
How does it know your name?

Who are you kidding, you don’t have the right to question the spiritual realm, their miracles are beyond your mortal comprehension. 

“Yes I am the one the call Gamzee.”

“Are you fucki-.” The ghost mutters angrily and you hear someone moving around.

Oh shit you made it angry and its coming for you. Fuck what did you do wrong? You must have offended it with your whole ambassador of the living world thing. Mother fuck you need to be more careful with your words.  
You go to apologise but the door opens a crack and you see someone staring through it at you and you’re too afraid. You pray to the mirthful messiahs to save you, for some miracle to keep this ghost from killing you.

“Gamzee it’s me.”

“I’m so sorry ghost-bro I didn’t mean to offend you like, dude I was just kicking the wicked shit and my brains all scrambled I didn’t mea-”

“Gamzee, you fucking idiot, it’s Sollux.”

The door opens all the way and, it’s true, there’s no ghost at all. It’s your good bro Sollux- although he could easily be mistaken for a ghost. His eyes are heavily sunken in and he looks even more tired than usual- usually his cool eye thing normally makes you contemplate the mysteries of the universe for hours straight after you see it, but now it just kinda scares the fuck out of you.

“Woah, Sollux, you look like shit.”

He scowls at you, “Whatever,” The door closes.

“What are you doing in there man? Are you in there with Aradia? Say hi for me!”

The door slams back open and he stares you down, “She isn’t here.” 

“Oh okay, what are you doing then all in the dark by yourself, that shit can’t be good for your think-centre bro.”

“She’s dead.”

“Huh?”

He closes the distance between the two of you. You’re about the same height, so you look straight ahead and almost through, his eyes. They’re so sad looking, but he seems so angry. Your roomies really need to chill the motherfuck out.

“She’s dead.” He says again.

“I don’t know what the motherfuck you’re talkin’ about man.”

He clenches his fists and you worry for a second that he’s going to punch you, but hey, whatever right? If the needs to punch something you’re down.

“Aradia is dead!” He screams at you, tears in his cool different coloured eyes.

“What? No way.”

“Do you think I’d fucking JOKE about this?!”

He’s practically baring his teeth at you and you do the only thing you can think to do.

You hug him.

“I’m so sorry bro.”

At first he struggles, and tries to push you away, but slowly you can feel him stop fighting and he hugs you back. You almost feel like crying along with him.  
Friendship is beautiful.

It’s a motherfucking miracle.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK TWO THINGS  
> 1- im sorry, im not a very good writer. My sincerest apologies to those expecting me to be talented because i am not.  
> 2- i realise these updates are more unreliable than *insert a witty metaphor comparing my update schedule to something unreliable* but I kinda just want to post the chapters as I write them, and it's just easier for me that way, especially with my schedule being the buttfuck it is- maybe they will regulate eventually, but probably not.  
> 3- ((I lied it's three things, so what? fight me)) I'm so excited because now this thrilling tale is expanding and I get to write in more characters (and mORE SHIPS) but this is a double edged sword because my biggest pet peeve (and by extension, biggest fear) is mischaracterisaton. But whatever, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it.  
> If you're curious as to what ships will be written in this (yes, acataleptic, bribe your readership into continuing with ships, what about this plan could possibly fail?) I am still undecided mostly, but i know for certain there will be rosemary (fuck yeah, rosemary) and i dont care how i do it (itll probably be stupid and unoriginal, knowing me) but i WILL write latuna/mitula into this. Just try and stop me.  
> Anyway, thank you so much for bearing with me so far, whether for the fic or my clearly hilarious commentary, we just dont know. i will repay all of you in sexual favours (but probably not).  
> Oh yeah one more thing, I may be getting ahead of myself here but my tumblr is kanklevantas if you wanna harass me, or follow me, or whatever  
> ily guys <3


	7. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a broken down car, some blue eyes, and a friend out for revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this site doesnt let me put things in italics and it is QUITE frustrating

Your car broke down. 

BIG.  
FUCKING.  
SURPRISE.

If it was going to happen to someone, of fucking course it would be you. 

You turn the ignition but the engine responds with a sad puttering. You turn it harder but it wheezes like an old man on his death bed, and then, also like the metaphorical old man, dies. 

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.” You bash the steering wheel with your palms.

“That didn’t sound too good.” Terezi snickers from the passenger seat.

You glare at her, but the action is wasted, on account of her being blind.

You both just sit in silence for a few minutes, you fuming, and her smirking, as if greatly amused by something. Well, your life is a joke, and you just happen to be the punchline. 

“So what do we do now?” She raises an eyebrow, and action you can only assume is mock-suggestive.

“I don’t fucking know, Terezi, why don’t you do something useful instead of looking at me with that shit-eating grin and think of something?”

She snorts, “Call someone and have them pick us up.”

You laugh loudly and sarcastically, “Call WHO?”

“ANYONE,” she throws her hands out, “It’s really not that difficult, Karkat."

“Oh okay, my fucking apologies, lets’ just see who we can find,” You pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts, “HMMM, oh look! Let’s call our homicidal bestie Vriska, there’s pretty much no need to worry that she’ll roll the car on purpose and kill us in a fiery explosion because she probably won’t come get us anyway! Wait let’s call Tavros!, Oh, no, he’s paralysed from the waist down and can’t drive a car. WHAT A FUCKING UNEXPECTED AND UNFORTUNATE TURN OF EVENTS!”

“Karkat.”

“Wait, Terezi please, I am TRYING to decide which one of the many winners we call our friends would be most suitable to chauffer us.”

She lets out a sigh heavy with exhausted resignation and sinks down into the car seat. 

“Do you have to be such a baby about EVERYTHING?”

“I’m not being a baby, shut up.”

“Yes, you are,” She rolls her head lazily to face you (although you’re not sure what the point of it is), “You are being a giant, whiny, annoying baby.”

“Hey here’s an idea.”

“Are you flipping me off?”

“Yes.”

She laughs and takes off her glasses and rests them on the dashboard. The sunlight leaks through the tinted red lenses and watermarks the worn rubber with crimson splotches. You don’t remember what colour her eyes were before she was blind-you think it was blue. 

No, it was blue. A beautiful shade of greenish-blue, like teal.

You remember seeing her without her eyes for the first time, wherein their place was two hollow sockets. You weren’t repulsed, like she thought you would be- just sad. Sad that you’d never again get to see those blue eyes shine with audacity, or peek out at you from under heavy lids, or skip back and forth along lines of text as she reads. 

But that was years ago.

She has glass eyes now and, wow what a shocker, they’re red. It was always her favourite colour. But not just the irises, all of it, there’s no pupil or sclera, the entire fucking glass marble is red. 

She asked for it specifically, and you know she gets a kick out of it.  
She is fucking weird.

“Karkat,” She turns her head in your general direction, although misses her mark a little, “Why did you come and get me?”

Shit. You knew it was coming but you haven’t thought of an explanation. You toss up whether it’s worth lying just to prolong this conversation, or coming clean and telling her the truth. Aradia was her friend and god fucking knows an upset Terezi is the last thing you need right now. But she’s going to find out sooner or later, and the sooner the better you suppose. Why is it up to you to do all this next-of-kin notification bullshit?

“Uh,” You stumble around some combinations of words in your mind, trying to find the one that will be the most painless, “Sollux and Aradia were in an accident.”

“Oh my God,” Her brow knits in concern, “Are they alright?”

“Sollux is fine,” You reconsider, “Well, physically.”

You go to say some more but she cuts you off.

“Aradia’s dead, isn’t she?”

Damn it, fucking law student. Somehow being blind makes her twice as observant, if that logic even makes any sense whatsoever.

“Yeah.”

She stares for a few seconds more and then turns her head downwards and closes her eyes.

“Do you know how it happened?”  
Her voice is strong, but thick and heavy.

“Car accident. Sollux was driving, but I don’t know the details.”

She clenches her fists, “I could make a pretty good guess as to what the details are.”

For a second you’re worried she’s going to try and kill Sollux, “Terezi d-“

She raises her head, gritting her teeth, “Call Kanaya and get her to pick us up.”

“I actually think we’re close enough to your University to get towed for a decent fucking price if you’d rat-“

“Were not going to my University.”

“What.”

“We’re going to pay Vriska a visit.”

You are very concerned, “Why the fuck would you want to visit that bitch?”

Somehow she manages to look you right in the eyes; her empty gaze is now filled with passion and fire, “Because someone needs to pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realise this is out of canonical sequence but for the sake of this AU I have shuffled around events my apologies if this makes you feel personally victimised. Also choo choo all aboard the karezi train, next stop makeout station.


	8. Kanaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an untidy dining room, a favour, and a busy girlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love kanaya and thats all there really is to say on the matter

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you are presently at the pinnacle of a very important moment in your life. 

That was sarcasm. Rose would be proud.

You are presently at the pinnacle of absolutely nothing. Except maybe this stupid show you stopped paying attention to a long time ago in favour of just staring blankly at the screen without processing any of it. Last thing you can recall the man was marrying this woman who, in some twist of fate, was actually his long lost half sister and his brother- who had, coincidentally, just woken up from a coma spanning a significant period of time- turned out to be the father of said sister, so he was, in truth, not his brother at all.  
It is actually so stupid, but Karkat had been hassling you about it for weeks, and you do what you must to adapt to the interests of your friends. Even if their interests are questionable to say the least. 

You glance over apathetically at the plethora of coloured fabrics scattered around the dining room. You do have a room allocated especially for sewing, which you have named ‘the sewing room’ as a sarcastic reflection of your creative spirit. Rose is particularly fond of the name; she says it has ironic charm. You aren’t as adept as she in the art of satire, but you are improving.

The tools of your trade are not currently in the sewing room for multiple reasons- none of which are important or you can remember. You must have gotten overly engrossed in your work and, at some point, decided to move it to a larger room as to progress on a larger scale. 

Yes, that must be it. 

You’re glad you got to the bottom of that mystery. 

You have grown tired of sewing at the moment, your hands are sore from the incessant measuring and cutting and pinning and other necessities required in the process of creating clothes. 

You sigh at the fabric, as though if you silently complain enough, they will pack themselves away. But that is never the case. Personally, you are quite indifferent to the mess, but Rose may take it as some kind of attempted passive aggressive jab at her over the disarray she leaves when knitting. Although you enjoy the many levels of meaning to what she says and does, at times you wish she was capable of taking some things at face value. 

She’s not here at present, and you can’t be certain as to when she’ll come home. It’ll probably be tonight, but it could be tomorrow.  
You don’t hold it against her though; she tends to lose track of time, and you know that she is very busy. Too busy to check her phone, even. 

She is busy.

You sigh again, this time at nothing in particular, but everything at once. You are bored. 

You stretch out your aching arms and get up off the couch in a somewhat clumsy and undignified manner. You’re glad no one was around to see that. 

Rose always prefers to have the blinds shut; she is somewhat adverse to bright lights. But you adore the sun, and in her absence you are free to open the house to it.  
You stand in front of the large window along the wall in the lounge room. It took a lot of pestering and compromise, but you convinced her to install it.

“She’s busy.” You declare, out loud.

She is busy and she will probably not appreciate you bothering her more than you already have. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you breathe a silent sigh of relief- but its transient because the caller is not who you anticipated.  
You answer nonetheless, grateful for the distraction at least.

“Hello?”

“Kanaya we need you to come pick us up.”

“What happened?”

“My fucking car broke down, and don’t you DARE say I told you so.”

“Okay,” You have been caveatting him to get a new car for months, “Where are you?”

“On the side of the goddamn road, I don’t know. Terezi where are we?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Oh yeah, we have no idea then.”

“How can you expect me to retrieve you if you don’t even know your own whereabouts?”

“Look, I definitely don’t need you busting my ass over this right now.”

You heave a sigh, “Does your phone encompass a GPS function?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” the line is silent for a moment, “I’ll check.”

You pick absently at your fingernails while he mutters to himself, searching for the suitable application.

“Fuck yes, okay I found it. Do you know Old Vagabond Road?”

“Roughly, yes.” You grab your keys off the counter, “I’m departing now.”

“Great! Thanks Kanaya.”

“It’s fine.”

You hang up, switch off the television, and head to the door.

Half of you is thankful for the interruption of your meaningless exploits and crippling boredom, whilst the other half of you is perturbed as to why Karkat called you and not Sollux, or why Aradia didn’t escort Terezi as she usually does. You have attempted to cease your tireless meddling, but alas to no avail, it is in your nature.  
You make a mental note to grill him for details later.

Your vehicle is parked in the driveway, as per usual. With this arrangement, Rose is able to use the garage and the sun warms up the interior of your car, a win-win really.  
Yours is a jade-green Kia Cadenza. You honestly don’t give a shit about automobiles, but this one looks very elegant and god knows Kanaya Maryam will not drive an ugly car.  
You check your phone once more to see if your elusive girlfriend has responded to your flailing attempts to gain her attention. 

She has not.

She’s busy.

You buckle your seatbelt and adjust your mirrors. Safety is paramount. 

Pulling out of the driveway you set your GPS to Old Vagabond Road because, in all honesty, you haven’t the faintest as to where it is. The electronic map appears and you turn out into the quiet street, on a quest that’s equally to rescue your astoundingly incompetent friends and to distract yourself from the nagging suspicion that something could be very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my darling shoutkatvantas for editing this trainwreck, your three whole commas and reassurance that i am not completely incompetent are greatly appreciated ily


	9. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A broken down grey volvo, a jade-green kia cadenza, and a purple bentley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow its been a while, how have you been?  
> Good? Good.  
> Personally I have been eating ridiculous amounts of cereal and crying over my japanese exams. But amidst the angst and pain of being incompetent at a foreign language you have been studying for three years- i have produced this chapter for you.  
> You're all welcome.  
> (i missed you)

“It’s so hot it feels like my eyeballs would melt out of my skull if I had any.” 

“Here,” You hand her the copy of The Time Traveller’s Wife you keep in the glove compartment to fan herself with, “Use this.”

“What is it?” 

“None of your fucking business is what it is.” 

“It’s one of your shitty romance novels, isn’t it?”

“My taste in literature is anything but shitty, it isn’t my fault you can’t appreciate art.”

She scoffs, but takes the book anyway. She does have a point. It’s fucking hot inside this metal death trap. You wound down the windows already, but the air is stoic and lukewarm. You’re starting to sweat like a goddamn barnyard pig. You hate that metaphor, but it’s too damn hot for you to think of a better one.  
You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car. 

“Where are you going?” Terezi asks, fanning herself vigorously with your well-loved novel.

“Outside.”

She mumbles an affirmative and you close the door behind you. It’s not any different temperature wise, but at least this way Kanaya will actually see you. Once again your brilliance is shining though, ten points to Karkat. 

Leaning against you pathetic fucking excuse for a vehicle, you watch other people pass by in their nice, air-conditioned, working cars. You may or may not flip a few of them off.

“How long did Kanaya say she’d take?” 

You glance back in the car at Terezi. She’s facing straight ahead and her expression one of unreadable determination. 

“She didn’t say, it’d better be soon or I’m going to flip my fucking shit all over the road and then you’ll have to call the cops or the ambulance or fucking whoever to scrape all my shit up off the tarmac like ‘woah, that’s a lot of shit! This is probably a health hazard of some sort, good thing you called us, creepy blind girl!’" 

You expect her to laugh but she doesn’t. 

You lean down so you can poke your head in through the window, “Terezi.” 

She doesn’t respond but her mouth forms into a hard line. Fan-fucking-tastic, a pissed off Terezi is almost as bad as a depressed Terezi. 

“Look,” You say, “I don’t know what the hell is going on in that sinister handicapped-vigilante brain of yours, but I can see the cogs turning like it’s not even a thing and, frankly, it’s scaring the shit out of me.” 

“I already told you,” she folds her arms resolutely, “We’re going to visit Vriska.” 

“But you see how that is an idiotic, stupid, terrible idea, right?” “

No, I can’t see, dumbass.” 

“It was a fucking figure of speech.” 

A small smile twitches at the corner of her mouth and it only serves to feed your growing anxiety, as though some kind of spastic blind parasite has laid eggs in your stomach and they’re currently hatching into thousands of fucking disgusting slimy grubs and eating the lining of your gut. 

“As much as I LOVE all this bullshitting around, could you please perhaps consider putting an end to this evasive shit-weasel routine, five stars and a standing ovation- by the way, and give me some actual fucking answers to actual fucking questions instead of sitting there like you’re Queen Spaz of the Land Of Riddles And Assholery?” 

“You’ll just have to come with me and see.” 

“Well what are we going to tell Kanaya? Hey! Kanaya! Will you drive us to the dwelling of the most insane bitch we know? Will you take us to the home of a known psychopath? Please, Terezi really wants to go visit the shit stain that gouged her fucking eyes out with probably no malicious intent! Do you think she will fucking AGREE to do that?!” 

“Stop being such a neurotic weenie and leave it to me.” 

You go to say more but a car horn sounds and you’re interrupted. You jerk upwards and smack your head on the top of the empty hole that the window glass stuff is in when it isn’t wound down, whatever the fuck it’s called. 

“SON OF A BITCH,” you turn violently towards a jade-green Kia Cadenza, “FUCK YOU AND FUCK THIS FUCKING CAR.”

Kanaya responds by beeping at you again. 

“About time,” Terezi grabs her cane and glasses of the dashboard and gets out of the car. You don’t even consider asking her if she needs your help, because you know damn well she doesn’t. 

You walk over to the car and get in the passenger seat. 

“Don’t you suppose that perhaps you should allow the handicapped constituent of this group to occupy the front seat?” 

“Don’t you suppose that perhaps I do not give a solitary shit?” 

“Touché.” 

Terezi is still outside the car, feeling around for the doorhandle. You lean back somewhat awkwardly and open the door (also somewhat awkwardly) for her.  
You are such a fucking gentleman.

“Swooooooon!” She pulls the door wide enough as to get inside the vehicle and plonks in to the back seat, “Karkat, what are you going to do about your car?” 

“Just fucking leave it here, I hope someone burns it.” 

“I believe that is a wise decision,” Kanaya pulls back out onto the road, “To where am I escorting you?” 

You glace at Terezi in the rear view mirror, slightly panicked, waiting for her to speak. 

“Karkat’s house.” 

You go to turn around and tell her you never fucking agreed to this, but for once you keep your mouth shut. 

Kanaya raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh?” 

“Don’t you even start with me Kanaya. DO NOT start with me.” 

“I was not planning on starting anything,” She eases the car back out onto the freeway, “Although I would like to ask you something.” 

“What?”

“Uh,” She clears her throat, “Well, in all possibility, the answer to the question I have in mind could turn out to be a rather delicate subject- and one which I would rather avoid discussing under these circumstances. Not that I can be certain of that fact until I am answered which is quite the paradoxical incongruity and impedes with my pertained intentio-” 

“Kanaya just spit it out and stop babbling like a moron high on idiot pills.” 

“Well, and correct me if I’m mistaken, isn’t Aradia usually the cohort responsible for accompanying Terezi on her ventures of a vehicular nature?” 

Oh fucking splendid. 

“She’s busy.” Terezi says from the back seat. 

You’re surprised, but also relieved. God knows Aradia’s death is like clumpy butter and you’re sick to death of spreading it over the burnt toast that is your group of associates. 

“Well yes, I assumed as much, but I would assume she would have you at a higher priority than whatever she is doing currently,” You don’t know- being dead is a pretty high priority. Oh. You just made yourself kind of sad. “But I suppose Sollux is quite high maintenance.”

You snort, “That’s for fucking sure.” 

The rest of the car trip is spent mostly in silence, which you’re thankful for- because a splitting headache and a nosy friend are not a combination of things you feel like dealing with today. 

Not that you don’t get a splitting headache anyway, even while your exquisite amigos are actually fucking quiet for once, your rotting angst-filled psyche is relentless. Even while you should be kicking back, enjoying the rare moments in which your surrounding party aren’t jabbering like a pack of useless fucking retards, you can’t help but think about how suspiciously quiet Terezi is being. Usually she’s the goddamn grand duchess of overdramatic insanity, but at the moment she’s not saying anything. 

It’s almost as creepy as when she does say things. 

You have it on pretty fucking good authority that you know what she’s planning- that authority being your own intuition, because you grace the world with your genius every waking day of your life. You haven’t the fucking faintest how she drew the conclusion, but you’re not one to get in the way of the whole blind justice thing she’s got going on. 

Part of you wants to sit back with a bucket of suitable theatre snacks and let her go nuts, maybe even cheer her on a little; god knows the world would be better off without Vriska-fucking-Serket. 

But the other half of you can appreciate what a crazy bitch Vriska-fucking-Serket is. She may be a waste of breath, but she’s dangerous.

“Well, here we are.” Kanaya stops just outside the apartment parking lot- she knows from your incessant complaints that that’s where cars go to die. Or have the living shit beaten out of them. 

“Thanks Kanaya, it’s good to know at least SOMEONE is competent enough to drive a car properly.” 

You unbuckle your seatbelt somewhat aggressively, “Hey, Terezi, how about you go and fuck yourself?”

She snickers and gets out of the car. 

You turn to Kanaya who’s looking at you with her usual worried motherly expression that both irritates and (secretly) comforts you. 

“Keep your phone on you and be ready as shit to pause all your weird fashionista escapades at the drop of this metaphorical hat that is my mental instability.” 

“Are you soliciting my services as a buffeter between you and your intricate and arguably problematic relationship with one Terezi Pyrope?”

You go to tell her that, no, you’re ‘soliciting her services as a buffeter’ between you and being murdered by a psychopathic fuck, but you know that would just lead to more unbearable bullshit, so instead you say, “Something like that.”

You open the car door, but before leaving you turn back to her, “Drive safe, okay.” You really don’t want any more of your friends to die in horrible accidents. You don’t need any more of that shit today. 

She looks slightly surprised at your fleeting moment of open friendly concern, but smiles, “I will.” 

You wave to each other as she drives away. Terezi waves too, in the wrong direction, but waves nonetheless. 

“Okay what now?”

“We take Gamzee’s car.”

You stare at her, “Are you fucking crazy? Wait, you don’t even need to answer that because YES, YES YOU ARE.”

She huffs, “Can you get the keys, or do we need to find another way to take it?”

You shake your head. She’s fucking insane. 

“I am not driving that joke. I AM NOT DRIVING A PURPLE FUCKING BENTLEY.”

Only Gamzee Makara would be rich enough to buy a Bentley but then have it painted purple.

Purple.

Gamzee-fucking-Makara.

“Karkat stop being so goddamn difficult for once and just work with me.”

“It’s not even just that I DESPISE that car, Terezi, if you’re planning what I think you’re planning, a fucking Bentley- let alone a purple one- is a memorable vehicle, if you catch my drift.”

“Karkat just trust me.”

Trust her. You groan, how many times have you trusted her and she’s gotten you so deep in shit you could practically taste it? Too fucking many. But you don’t really have a choice. If you don’t do it, she’ll just get someone else to. And, honestly, you want to be the one.

“Okay, fuck, fine. I can get the keys,” You grab her wrist and gently steer her towards your apartment, “But you owe me.” 

She grins, “I can live with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty again to my bae shoutkatvantas- you are the apostrophe to my contraction.


	10. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an attempt at dealing with grief, a dream about waffle house, and an eye for an eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: i dont do drugs i have never been high i am just overtired and have 0 inhibitions and laughed a lot at myself  
> i am the only person who laughs at me  
> its a problem

Inside your apartment it smells like weed. Well, more than it usually does. When Gamzee is around everything smells like weed. But now the air is thick with the greasy-herb smell you are so unfortunately accustomed to. 

Terezi hacks and coughs, “Jesus Christ Karkat, open a window or something.”

You cross the living room quickly and angrily to the nearest window and throw it open. Gamzee had all them closed, so it’s even hotter inside than it is outside.  
There is a little breeze up this high, which feels nice against your face, so you stick your head out of the window to enjoy it. For a moment you forget that your best friend’s girlfriend died yesterday and you are currently in the process of assisting an arguably insane wannabe vigilante ‘pass justice’ onto another arguably insane homicidal maniac in what could turn out to be a very illegal fashion. 

“Heeeeeeeeey guys!” You turn back to the joy that is your reality and to Sollux splayed out on the couch watching cartoons and eating what looks like his third packet of Doritos. Gamzee must have done a snack run.

“You actually came out of your room, colour me fucking surprised.”

Terezi shakes her head in your direction and you take a closer look at your friend.

“Sollux are you high?”

He laughs, “As a fucking kite.”

You groan, “You have to be fucking kidding me, I am not prepared to deal with this kind of shit right now.”

He shuffles himself up to a sitting position, “Whoa I am baked as a motherfucking cake WAHEY THAT RHYMED.”

You go to yell at him. Call him an idiot- a fucking moron who knows he’s too unstable to do this kind of shit on his best day- but you stop yourself. This is him trying to deal the best way he can. Honestly, it could be a lot worse, and you’re a little bit thankful.

Terezi plonks down on the couch next to him, “What are you watching?”

He smiles slightly, “Scooby Doo.”

“Scooby Doo is shit.” You say, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to Terezi.

“Aradia loves Scooby Doo,” He grins, “One time, when she was sick, I’m pretty sure we watched all the Scooby Doo that ever was. All of it. By the end I had a whole new appreciation for this unfashionable gang and their dog with a speech impediment.”

Your stomach drops. Him trying to deal the best way he can is not very well at all. You decide that you should change the subject before this gets even more out of hand than it already has. Fuck, the hand practically doesn’t even exist anymore- it’s a bloody wrist stump with little bits of loose skin flapping about.

“Where’s Gamzee?”

Sollux doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, “I don’t remember.”

Of course he doesn’t remember. You get up and go to the kitchen while Terezi asks what’s happening on TV and Sollux describes it to her.

It would most likely annoy you if you weren’t so used to it. Although they aren’t related by blood- they minds as well be; Sollux and Terezi have been step brother and sister since they were about three. You hadn’t really considered just how much this would affect Terezi, because it’s not just that she and Aradia were close, it’s her brother that’s hurting.  
Well, currently he’s not hurting, you could probably punch him and he’d giggle like a little bitch.

Gamzee’s keys are on the kitchen counter and you pocket them. Maybe you shouldn’t tell her. Oops Terezi the keys are missing, looks like we’ll just have to hang out with Harold and fucking Kumar watching shitty 80’s cartoons all day, how unfortunate!  
But you decide to tell her, although you aren’t sure why.

You jangle the keys in front of her face, “found them.”

“Hey,” Sollux grabs on your sleeve, “Hey Karkat.”

“What?”

“Do you remember that time?”

“Vividly,” You pull your arm away, “Terezi I said I’ve got the keys.”

She jabs you in the violently ribs with her elbow, “Ow Fuck!”

“What time are you talking about Sollux?”

Sollux wheezes, “I didn’t-“ He tries to continue talking but his words are unintelligible over his laughing, “I didn’t even say what time.”

You groan. You hate living with a stoner for a reason. And now he’s an elusive stoner who spreads his stoner-ness all around like fucking drug-Oprah.

Doperah. 

“Terezi you probably won’t remember because I’m PRETTY SURE you were in hospital or on holidays or trapped in a Waffle House, but that might have been a dream because I called you and you said they were holding our family hostage and were going to sell them to the Russian mafia unless you could make a shitload of waffles in like, four minutes, and you were all, ‘how do I even make a waffle?’ and I was ALL OVER that shit like, ‘okay so two eggs, some batter, sugar probably, a few tablespoons of corn’ and you were like, ‘tablespoon?’ and I was like, ‘that’s the small one yeah?’ and you were like, ‘no it’s the big one’ and then I realised that you probably don’t put corn in waffles and our family was going to be sold to the mafia so I started freaking out, yeah I’m 98% sure that was a dream because I’ve never been to a Waffle House before. I’ve never even eaten a waffle before what the fuck is a waffle, it’s like a pancake but square? Does being square make it taste different or is it for aesthetic qualities? Oh yeah also our family didn’t get sold to the mafia I’m pretty sure.”

“No, our family didn’t get sold to the mafia.”

“Sollux are you going to be nearing the fucking point soon or should I pull up a chair?”

He barks out another laugh, “Oh yeah, I was gonna say remember the time I had to work for like, four days straight because we had some big presentation on or something, I don’t actually remember. That’s kind of funny, that I remember all the damn work but I don’t even remember what the point of it was.”

“It was like two weeks ago of course I remember.”

“Oh yeah, well I lied, I only worked two days. On the third morning Aradia came in, she wouldn’t tell me why she was there except she needed to talk to my boss. I got mad at her like ‘no don’t do that I need this job I fucking hate it but I need it’ and she just smiled at me and went into Strider’s office like it was no big deal, and when she came out she told me that we were going out.  
“I got mad again like’ I have work to do’ but she got some kind of fucking patronising and probably ironic permission slip saying I could have the afternoon off. I still don’t know how she did it- she probably manipulated his boyfriend into helping, we should have double dated, she would have liked that. I wouldn’t have, but I should have done more things for her.  
“Anyway we went to this exhibition at the museum that she had been wanting to see, something about what ancient civilisations did with their dead- I wasn’t that interested in it, but she was really excited about it.  
“ I remember it was hot, not as hot as today, but warm- like a ‘yeah I could go for a t-shirt but long pants are okay too’ kind of day. She was,” he laughs, “She was wearing this broad brimmed hat that was too big for her, and it kept slipping down over her eyes, like some sort of floppy helmet, so she had to hold it up with her hands. I’d look down and she’d be there holding the brim of the hat up so she could read the plaques and have a proper look at the exhibits. I told her that she should just take it off because we were inside anyway, but she said that she liked the hat and didn’t want to.”

“Sollux where is this going?” You ask in the nicest tone you can muster.

“Oh,” He kneads his hands, “Well it turned out it wasn’t so much the hat she liked, it was the fact the hat covered the gash on her temple from where Vriska had smashed her head into a kitchen table.”

“Wait,” you say, “Wait ONE FUCKING SECOND. Vriska did WHAT?”

“Sollux,” Terezi grabs his hand and squeezes, “I can’t make this right for you, but I sure as hell can make it even.”

“PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE MY OUTBURST.”

“Karkat shut up.”

Sollux looks down, “It should have been me.”

“No I-“

“I should be dead. Not her.”

You grab the collar of Sollux’s shirt and force him to face you.

“Now you listen to me you actual anus, this IS NOT your fault. If you so much as THINK that again, I will strangle you with your own sense of self loathing, do you understand?”  
You don’t expect him to answer, but in his somewhat compromised state he says, “Okay.” Although you aren’t certain he means it. You let him go and pat him on the knee in your own awkward reassuring way. You grab Terezi’s wrist and lead her towards the door.

“We’ll be back in a few hours and I swear to god if you are high again I will shove every last bud I find in this apartment up your ass. DO NOT let Gamzee convince you that it’s worth it because I promise you that it is not.”

Sollux lies back down on the couch, “I’ll probably just, take a nap or something.”

“Yeah, do that.”

Once you close the door you turn to her, “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Yeah,” You hand Terezi her cane from where she left it outside your apartment door, “Let’s go.”

“Level with me here, “You gently guide her down the stairs, “What exactly are you going to do to Vriska?”

“It’s an eye for an eye, Karkat, and she took both of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i also have never eaten a waffle when will the similarities end also its school holidays soon and i have like two weeks with nothing to do but watch anime and write fanfiction that nobody cares about /fist pump  
> ty to all you guys who leave those lil kudosy things man they make me so happy this is my first fanfiction/ public piece of writing ever ( and its now the longest ive ever done too) its practically my baby and when i check up on it and people have left likes or kudos ((what even is a kudos)) or even just viewed it im like wOW I DIDNT KNOW PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKED THIS TURD but oh man ily your praise gives me strength


	11. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A road trip

As expected, the inside of Gamzee’s car is filthy. There are fast food wrappers and fucking clown horns everywhere. 

Clown horns. 

You stepped on one getting inside and scared the shit out of yourself. Who the hell hoards clown horns in their car? The same kind of asshole who’s car in question is a purple Bentley, obviously.

“What’s the time?” Terezi asks as soon as you’re both in the car.

“Uh,” You check your phone because god knows the clock radio in Gamzee’s car isn’t accurate, “Quarter past four.” 

She smirks, “Great, let’s get to it.”

You release the steering wheel. Hell no, you’re not going anywhere until you actually have some faint fucking idea as to what specifically ‘get to it’ entitles. 

“Seeing as though you are mentally handicapped and I know that you’re going to be a bitch about it, I’ll explain on the way- now hurry up and drive.”

Her super blind girl senses must have picked up on your trepidation. Damn it. 

“Fine, but you’d better start talking Miss I’m-going-to-be-super-fucking-aloof-and-mysterious-because-I-think-it’s-cool-and-not-unfathomably-irritating-at-all.”

She makes an amused grunting noise and you pull out into the street. This car may be mortifying and impractical in pretty much every single way, but God damn is it nice to drive.

“Before I tell you anything, you have to promise that you’re not going to chicken out on me.”

“Terezi please, my irrepressible bravery is matched only by my immeasurable capability to never ‘chicken out’ on anything. Honestly, I’m offended.”

She scoffs, “Okay, you also have to promise to keep your big mouth shut while I’m talking.”

“Are you fuc-” She jabs your shoulder to cut you off, “Fine, I’ll shut up.”

“Do you remember when Tavros had his, uh, accident?”

You nod.

“You can answer my questions, idiot.”

“I nodded.”

“Are you really mocking a blind girl?”

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

She sighs, “Well anyway, that was when Aradia and I decided that Vriska needed to be taught a lesson. We had it all figured out- there was going to be no violence or anything, just stern words and hopefully that would have been enough to make her fuck right off. Evidently it wasn’t, or I wouldn’t be missing my eyes.”

“Wait did she just fucking attack you out of nowhere, I know she’s a piece of work to say the least, but seriously?”

“Hey! I said no talking,” She smacks your forearm, “But yeah, pretty much. We couldn’t tell the cops though, because we may or may not have broken into her house.”

Your stomach churns a little; you knew it was Vriska, but you always assumed it was a two sided argument, not an intervention gone wrong. 

“I told Aradia it was over, that we’d have to wait for a better opportunity- or hold off entirely, because Vriska was more dangerous than we had considered. She agreed, but I could tell she wasn’t satisfied. If anything she was even madder. Have you ever seen Aradia angry? It’s terrifying.  
“Don’t get me wrong here, I wanted to punch Vriska in the face with the steel fist of justice as much as she did, I was just all messed up after the whole ‘got your eyes gouged out thing’. In hindsight, I should have stopped being such a baby and helped her.”

“Terezi-“

She smacks you again, “How many times do I have to tell you stop interrupting me? God damn it Karkat, now I forget what I was talking about.”

“Steel fist of justice.”

“Oh yeah! So basically for the next year as I learnt how to function without my eyes, we started talking about it more and more until it got to the point where we decided that it needed to happen. And about two weeks ago, Aradia told me that she was going to confront Vriska that night. I wanted to come too so we could serve her up a nice hot plate of righteousness as a team like we planned, but she insisted on going alone.  
“I wasn’t 100% sure that it’s Vriska’s fault that she’s dead, not until Sollux said the thing about the gash in her forehead. Now I’m certain, and it’s too late to help her like I promised, but I can sure as shit make it even.”

“But Sollux was driving.”

“She must have cut the brakes, or drugged him or something. Sollux is a lot of things, but a bad driver is not one of them.”

You drive in silence for a while. She has made up her mind and, honestly, you were always impressed by her resolute certainty. Terezi wouldn’t be Terezi if she wasn’t absolute in her decisions. Sometimes you fucking despise it, but always can respect it. Even if you respect it secretly.

“So, what? We’re going to kill her?”

“If she lives, she will wish she hadn’t.”

“Oh God, oh Jesus fucking Christ Terezi.”

You don’t want to go to prison. You couldn’t survive in there. You’re starting to engage panic mode.  
You grip the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles whiten. You consider turning around and going back, Terezi wouldn’t be able to tell until it’s too late and you can deal with her being pissed off later.

“Karkat you don’t have to help, I just need you to drive me. And if it’s any consolation, I can guarantee we won’t get caught.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST TEREZI.”

“You said that already.”

“Oh God I can’t breathe, I’m fucking I-,” You gasp for breath, “I’m hyperventilating.”

“Oh for fucks sake calm down, you’re being SUCH a baby.”

“OH? I AM? I’M BEING A BABY? WELL FORGIVE ME, TEREZI, FOR BEING A LITTLE APPREHENSIVE ABOUT MURDERING SOMEONE!”

“Karkat, please,” Her voice is uncharacteristically soft, “I need you.”

You continue driving with your back hunched over the steering wheel locked in your iron clad grip. 

Fuck.

She did it. She played the fucking trump card. 

“Fine, I’ll help.”

“Like I said, I just need you to drive me.”

You squeeze the wheel even tighter in an attempt to unclench your jaw, “No. I don’t want you to get hurt twice.”  
All those months in hospital, and rehab- all the fights and all that pain. 

You can’t do it again.  
You can’t. 

“Karka-”

“No, Terezi, just listen to me for a second. I promised you that I would never let anything bad happen to you again, and then I let you down. I know, I’m fucking garbage, I don’t even know why someone like you even wants to talk to someone like me most of the time. I know that you don’t want to be with me anymore, and I get that, I wouldn’t want to be with me either- but that does not fucking mean I EVER stopped loving you. So just shut up with this you only have to drive me bullshit. If you need me, I’m going to be there, and that’s all there really is to say on the matter.”

Almost immediately after you say the words you regret them and wish you could just go back in time and punch yourself in the face.

“I mean, you’re lucky to have a friend like me who’s not utterly fucking incompet-”

“Please don’t take it back.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t take it back, you always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Say really sweet things and then try and cover up the fact that you said them with jerky alternatives.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“I’m pretty fucking sure I don’t.”

“ ‘I’m Karkat Vantas and I tell people that I’m still in love with them and then pretend it was a joke and call them incompetent because I’m afraid of my feelings’.”

“ ‘I’m Terezi Pyrope and I’m fucking insane so I don’t get a say in anything!’”

“Dance around it all you like, the harder you deny it, the cuter it is.”

“I’m not fucking cute, I’m badass.”

She laughs, “Whatever you say.”

Its times like these you’re glad she’s blind, so she can’t see you smiling like an idiot.

You drive in silence again for a while, but this time it’s a comfortable silence. It feels a lot warmer than the stressed cold one from before. For a few minutes, you actually forget that you’re on your way to try and kill someone. Part of you is already making peace with the whole concept. 

\---------

“How far away are we?” 

The sun is setting, but you can still make out your surroundings- even if it’s with a bit of strain. Vriska lives way out in buttfuck nowhere and there are hardly any lights or distinguishing features, besides the fact there are no lights or distinguishing features, letting you know you’re getting close.

“Ten minutes maybe.” 

“Stop at the next gas station.”

At that exact moment you spot a gas station about 400 meters ahead of you, “Wow for a blind girl your timing is fucking spot on.”

“Okay,” She says matter-of-factly, “get a gallon of petrol in one of those portable fuel tank thingies.”

You’re done questioning her, “Yeah, sure.”

You pull into the gas station, top up your car, and grab her requested (if not a little suspicious) gallon of petrol. You also buy a bag of nondescript chips and two coffees. You’re fucking tired, and if she doesn’t want one, you’ll have both. 

For once you’re actually grateful to Gamzee, or more accurately, grateful to his money and his absent minded tendencies- resulting in him leaving all his cash everywhere. He’s actually useful for once, hallelujah. 

You climb back into the driver’s seat and offer her one of the coffees, which she takes wholeheartedly. 

“Did you want anything else your highness?”

“Did you get anything to eat?”

You toss the chips onto her lap, “I thought you’d ask that.”

She feels the bag but puts it on the dashboard without opening it, “For later.”

You shrug to yourself and pull back out onto the road.

“Hey Karkat, is this a date?”

You nearly swerve off the road out of shock, “Uh,” Where the fuck did that come from? “If you want it to be, I guess? If it is, it’s a pretty fucked up date.”

She smiles, “Yeah, it is. If we survive this, you have to take me on a real one. Or at least a less fucked up one.”

“What the fuck do you mean IF we survive this?”

“Is that a no?”

“It is an unconditional even if a somewhat pants shittingly terrified yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter is a lot less acceptable than the rest, I'll be at OzCC all weekend and wanted to get an update out asap also can i get an amen for karezi


	12. Kanaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an absence of light, a baking enthusiast, and 200 cupcakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost sorry if this chapter is shitty I feel really shitty rn and I guess writing is a nice distraction but maybe using it as a venting process is not the greatest idea. So yeah, my apologies if it is sub standard

Your drive home was unpleasantly quiet, save for the relentless pounding of doubt and unanswered questions inside your mind. 

The Karkat debacle was a lovely distraction while it lasted- but as soon as you had run the course of your usefulness, you had nothing to do but agonize over Rose’s disregard of you and whether or not it is purposeful. Which is precisely what you have been doing for the past three hours and twenty seven minutes.

Three hours and twenty eight minutes.

How fun.

You aren’t certain as to when the sun set. It’s always like that, progressively getting darker without you realising until darkness is all there is. You shrug off the brooding heaviness hanging over your head and flick on the nearest light switch. 

You consider cooking dinner, but you still feel it’s too early, and honestly, you don’t want to admit defeat and prepare a meal for one.

Damn it Kanaya it’s only been a day, pull yourself together woman.

Still, for some reason or another, you are concerned. And the fact that you can tell that both Karkat and Terezi Blatantly lied to you about their intentions does nothing to quell your disquiet.

Part of you was actually hoping that Karkat would call on your services once more, anything to pull your mind up out of this spiralling pool of nonsensical incongruity. But he didn’t.

You suppose it all went well then, whatever it was.

You drum your fingers on the dining table restlessly, overcome by a feeling of empty triviality. You check your phone again, although you know for a certainty she has not responded to any of your increasingly pathetically fraught messages.

You know she must be busy, but, whether it truly is or this is just a subconscious floundering attempt at justification, you can’t shake the feeling something is amiss.

You mull over the idea of calling her sister and asking her if she has a better idea of what exactly Rose is so preoccupied with- but in a somewhat uncharacteristic spur of spontaneity, grab your keys and head outside. Locking your doors, for some reason it makes a lot more sense to you to visit Roxy yourself than to simply call her.

Any distraction is an excellent distraction. 

She doesn’t live exceptionally far away, it’s a small town and you are well acquainted with more or less everyone in it. Not that you would have hesitated if she did live a considerate distance away, you are not really inclined to be at home alone and useless at the moment. 

You drive, as you have already done so today, but as you are more than happy to do so again. 

You love the day, but the night is pretty too, you suppose. It has a rather enigmatic, yet melancholic appeal whilst somehow remaining joyful and soothing.

It is an odd feeling, loneliness, makes you recognise strange aspects in things so clockwork as the absence of light.

You realise that its cliché and overdone to the point of trifling, but you find yourself wondering if Rose is looking at the night and thinking of you as well. 

Sharing the same moon, if nothing else. The same moon, the same stars. 

The drive passes more quickly than you expected, your brooding must have eaten away more time than you anticipated. 

Pulling into Roxy’s street, you find yourself hoping against all hope that she and Rose were just having a lovely sisterly bonding day of sorts and lost track of time. You’ll even be pleased if they decided to partake in Roxy’s preferred pastime and Rose was simply too intoxicated to drive back home. Back to you. 

You are not possessive, just concerned. You know Rose doesn’t mind your inexorable meddling- but you remind yourself constantly to be careful to avoid making the same mistakes her cousin did. He, of course, was not solely at fault- but you prefer to foresee mistakes and evade them than rather than make them and learn from them. 

Not to imply you don’t make your fair share for mistakes nonetheless. 

In fact, you’re quite certain that he was, at one point, in your exact position. This revelation worries you even further- but you remind yourself they worked through their discrepancy. 

Rose and yourself haven’t got any discrepancies, do you? 

At least you don’t think you do.

Well, maybe- what would a relationship be without a few discrepancies? 

But, what if you have too many discrepancies? 

You shake your head in small, sharp, back and forths; attempting to physically force the thoughts out of your mind.

Jane’s car is parked in Roxy’s driveway, so you settle for the gutter-space contiguous. You haven’t the time for apprehension, this is an emergency. More or less.

If you hadn’t already known that this was indeed Roxy Lalonde’s place of residence, the wizard shaped doorknocker would have definitely assured you. Unfortunately you aren’t in the mood to humour Roxy’s taste in décor (ironic or not, you still aren’t sure. You don’t know if anyone is sure) so you just knock the old fashioned way. 

“Coming!” You can’t discern who calls to you over the sound of clattering pans and flustered shuffling.

The door swings open and you are greeted by the fluttering tails of a well loved apron and the behind of one Jane Crocker as she runs back inside calling, “Come in, I’m sorry, I’m just in the middle of something!”

You don’t need to be told twice, the scent of baking pastries is more than enticing enough to lure you in.

The cakes smell even sweeter to you knowing that Roxy Lalonde’s house previously smelled of alcohol and cheap cigarettes- which you found bizarre, considering- as far as you can be sure- Roxy has never smoked in her entire life. Perhaps it was just the overpowering stigma of alcoholism translating into other detrimental vices- a veritable smorgasbord of addiction, whether partaken in or not.

But now that stench of discontent has been replaced with the warm, lingering smell of constant baking, and, by extension- the warm, lingering company of Jane Crocker.

“I suppose you are catering something quite demanding then?”

“Oh, Kanaya! You haven’t the slightest; I swear to god ,six year olds are the most demanding little shits. I usually like kids, but not when they want, and I quote, ‘two hundred pink fairy themed cupcakes and a three tier fairy-unicorn-princess chocolate cake’.”

“Sounds extravagant.”

“I told her, two hundred is too many, and she is literally SIX YEARS OLD AND DOES NOT NEED A THREE TIER CAKE, but her parent payed extra for what I assume is my pain and suffering,” She pokes her batter covered face through the kitchen doorframe and smiles at you, “If so, someone should really be paying her parents.”

You smile back at her, out of polite amusement if nothing else. 

“So I assume Roxy isn’t currently on the premises?”

She whips back into the kitchen and you wander over to watch her as she embraces her element.

“Uh, no she’s not. I’m not sure where she is actually,” She pulls something that looks delicious out of the oven, only to replace it with an uncooked version of the same thing. She closes the door with her foot as she spins around and slides the muffin tray onto the island bench, “Could you try one of these and tell me if they’re adequate?”

You vigilantly draw one of the piping hot, unfrosted cupcakes out of its individual cupcake pot, “Do you know if she mentioned anything about Rose before leaving?” You break off a little of the confection and, after blowing on it gently, pop it in your mouth, “Also these are delicious, as always.”

“Thank you dear! But I’m not sure,” Jane replies, rather preoccupied with stirring even more batter, “Why, is Rose okay?”

You place the cupcake back down on the bench, “I hope so.”

She stops stirring and turns to you, “I’m sure she’s fine, Lalondes are a lot stronger than I think either of us give them credit for.” Her goofy, genuine, grin is more than reassuring.

“Yes, that is very true.”

“But in the meantime,” She points a batter covered wooden spoon in your direction and winks, “I have two hundred cupcakes to make and now a visitor with nothing better to do, how does Sous-Chef Kanaya Maryam sound to you?”

“It sounds superb,” You grab one of her many spare aprons hanging up on the back of the kitchen door, “But, I thought that you’d enlist the help of John on a project as large as this.”

She laughs, “Oh I tried, but he insisted he was busy- so as soon as he is not ‘busy’ I’m gonna make him work overtime at the bakery to compensate for the fact I’m working my ass off without him. Overtime without pay, take that buster!”

You smile, “Yes, I’m sure that’ll show him.”

Jane gestures to a drawer where you find a ridiculous amount of cooking utensils. You grab the specified wooden spoon and readily accept the bowl of batter.

“Okay, now let’s make a very difficult little girl happy with food even though what she really deserves is to be pushed down a flight of stairs.”

“And I thought my profession was taxing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did someone say janeroxy? no? well i did, so shut up and deal with it.  
> Also some people say 13 is an unlucky number, but to me 13 is the holy motherfuckin grail like wow i cannot believe that I've gotten this much response- compared to some things it isnt a whole heap, but this is my first fanfiction (as im p sure ive said already, idk i have the memory of a grape) and i am stoked ily to all who actually read this I promise there is a solid storyline, I'm just approaching it gently and pacing myself.  
> Its gonna be a long journey but at least we have eachother  
> Maybe we will develop some strong feelings towards eachother, a lil character building perhaps?  
> probably not but thatd be cool


	13. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an AWOL dish dryer, a quick check in, and a good nights rest

Your name is Jane Crocker and if you ever have to so much as look at another piping bag ever again, you’ll throw up all over yourself. You’re probably exaggerating, you are a baker by trade and piping bags tend to be an occupational hazard- but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. 

You examine the glass bowl you’re currently scouring for any sneaky food remnants that may have escaped the wrath of your soapy water and battle-sponge. Dish washing is war and you are the general. 

You are very tired.

It seems to be fine, so you set it aside with the rest of the suitably clean crockery. Crockery. You smile to yourself. 

You are so, very tired.

You reach into the near scalding, bubbly water to search for any leftover cutlery. You are immune to such temperatures due to your faithful rubber gloves. When all else fails, they’ve always got your back. Or, your hands. 

There is no more, so you yank out the plug and watch the water swirl around the drain until it is all sucked away, leaving only a foamy white mound. You would usually bombard it with cold water and splash at it until it too dissipates- but you are just too tired. 

Apathetically, you turn your gaze to the dripping, but clean, dishes and the empty space in which your trusty dish dryer would usually be standing. 

“I wash, you dry- that’s the deal.” You mutter to yourself, somewhat indignantly, as you grab the tea towel from where it hangs next to the oven.

Who should be here in your stead, you wonder.

John? Maybe if he weren’t so BUSY he could have helped you, you would have been finished hours ago and you could be sleeping right now. But nooo, you’re just the big sister. You give him a job and a house to live in and what do you get in return? Well, besides wrinkly prune hands and an unhealthy amount of stress, fucking bupkis. 

Roxy would usually be here, if she weren’t out being Roxy. She hates drying, but you know what it takes to get her to do things, no matter how much she hates them. You make a mental note to call her again and check in before you go to sleep. It’s only 2am, she should still be awake.

The number one candidate, topping your list of dishwashing acrimony, would be sleeping beauty on the couch over there. Who knew Kanaya was such a lightweight? You try and keep your bitterness towards her sudden abandonment at a minimum- she is rather concerned for her Lalonde, and you know how concerning Lalondes can be. But you still find yourself punctuating your thoughts with angry, hard scrubs- taking out your annoyance on the fine china. 

At long last the dishes are done to your compromised standards and you blatantly refuse to pack them away, because, in simplest terms- you do not want to. 

You should check in with Roxy, you remind yourself as you untie your apron. 

You really should check in with her, you think as you grab a blanket from the linen closet and throw it over your sleeping houseguest.

“I should call.” You say out loud to yourself, staring agonizingly into the dark. 

You should call Roxy, but your bed is calling you. The warm embrace of sleep is much more real than the one she isn’t offering tonight. You scratch the nape of your neck in conflict.

Damn it, you grab your phone off the coffee table and scroll through your contacts until you reach Rox<3\. The love heart has been there forever, only the meaning has changed slightly over time.

You stumble to your bedroom as quietly and as carefully as possible and press dial as you flop down onto your bed. Holding your phone to your ear, you fight to stay awake as it rings. Your lids are heavy and, by the third ring, you’re just about ready to give up and finally get some well deserved rest when you’re answered.

“Yo what’s up Janey?”

“Ugh,” you groan and shake yourself back to life, “Certainly not me, I am well and truly down and out.”

“Yeah well, I WAS expectin’ you to call a tad earlier.”

“I DID call ‘a tad earlier’, we made plans to get in touch early this morning, but I have seen neither hide nor hair of you all day!”

“Sorry bout that, y’know how Rose gets with all her weird sister crap, GRADE A BS IF YOU AS ME.”

You smile, it’s almost as though you can feel Rose's glare, radiating through the telephone.

“If it really is BS of such a high calibre, than why do you even indulge her escapades?”

“Janey, Janey, Janey. Poor, innocent, ignorant Janey- you just do not understand how sistership works.”

“Sisterhood.”

“Sistership is complicated, Okay. Someone with only a stinky male sibling- regardless of how fine they are- would just not understand.”

“One day you will stop hitting on my brother.”

She barks a laugh, “NOT LIKELY.”

You laugh tiredly along with her and rub your eyes. It’s a running joke that she still hits on all your male friends, even though both she, and most of them, are about as straight as a pool noodle. 

“Oop, Rose is glaring at me all scarylike and I don’t wanna be cursed by Roseanna, sorceress of darkness, so I gotta go.”

“Wait, are you coming home tomor- well technically it’s today, are you coming home today?”

“Uh, probs. It depends on how much longer Rosey decides to be a little bitch about this.” You hear someone protest in the background and Roxy laughs, “I’ll keep you posted, like I’m the goddamn mail QUEEN.”

“Roxy.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? I’m the motherfucking apex of perfection. I mean, sexy AND a total genius? Wow Jane, talk about punching above your weight.”

“No, you ninny, I’m not talking about your general physical and mental dexterity, I was fully expecting you to be absolutely drunk out of your wits, but you seem to be quite sober.”

“Sober as, something that’s not shitfaced at all. I’m too tired for clever metaphors.”

“Maybe it is high time we both got some shuteye.”

“Amen, love you Janey.”

“I love you too, Rox.”

You press the end call button, feeling quite satisfied with your decision to check in, but as though your bones are made of lead and weariness. You are too exhausted to move, so you find yourself falling asleep in the middle of your bed, above the sheets, and with your glasses on still. But you couldn’t care less. 

Before your brain shuts out completely, you contemplate telling Kanaya that Rose is safe. You’re sure she will appreciate it- but Roxy will kill you if you ruin the surprise. Its cuckoo craziness to think Rose even cares if it’s a surprise or not- unless it’s some kind of satirical gesture you don’t yet understand.

You’ll think of some way to let Kanaya know that her girlfriend is okay without cluing her in to the fact that she may soon not have a girlfriend at all- dashing all of Roxy’s ridiculous engagement fantasies in the process- tomorrow. Right now, it’s time for about six hours of well earned sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a perfect world I will be updating this like a woman possessed for the next two weeks, possessed by the spirit of FANFICTION, that is. Unfortunately we do not live in a perfect world and i can guarantee nothing, but we can hope  
> *purposefully says nothing about the last paragraph*


	14. Sollux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rubber inflatable spiders, a party, and a courtesy call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> id say ive been too busy to update but id be lying im lazy and was suffering writers block

Sometime after inflating the sixth giant rubber spider in a pack of twenty, you start to re-evaluate your life choices.

What are you doing here, in a mess of orange and black crepe paper, blowing until your cheeks hurt in an attempt to bring these sad, flat, balloon arachnids to life? 

“Please remind me, Aradia,” You puff into the spiders plastic tube dong, “Why the fuck am I doing this?”

“Because, Sollux,” She examines a large fold out skeleton, “It’s fun.”

You laugh in the jerkiest, most blatantly sarcastic way humanly possible, “What single aspect of this constitutes as fun? I am literally sitting here like the world’s biggest jackass, blowing into my sixth tiny plastic spider dick.”

“Halloween is the best night of the year, and if blowing into tiny plastic spider dicks is what it takes to make this party sufficiently spooky, than that’s what we’ll do. We will blow into a thousand tiny plastic spider dicks if we must.”

“Funny, I don’t see you fellating any of these Goddamn bugs.”

She tips out the huge plastic shopping bag, more cliché decorations spilling out onto the lounge room floor, “Yes well, I have other things to do,” She unfurls a huge chain of paper Frankensteins, “He’s Frankenstein’s monster, Sollux! Don’t you know anything?”

“I’m sorry that my knowledge of movie monsters isn’t as vast and creepily proficient as yours.”

She sticks out her tongue at you and stands to measure out a suitable wall space for her shitty paper Frankenstein’s Monster chain.

You slide the rest of the flat spiders under the couch in hopes that she will forget you still have fourteen to go.

Six is enough. 

In your books, zero is more than enough- but when it comes to Halloween, you are but a less than willing leaf whipped up in hurricane Aradia. 

“I’m just putting it out there right now, so you know and you can’t turn around and act all fucking surprised- like you didn’t see this coming and I’m personally victimising you, I AM NOT dressing up.”

She stands back to inspect the damn Frankensteins like they were some kind of priceless work of art in a pretentious exhibit for hipsters who need to feed their sense of self importance.

“Does that look level to you?”

“I don’t really give a fuck.”

She sneers at you and sits back down to rifle through the rest of her cheesy bullshit.

“Aradia.”

“Yes?” She doesn’t look up.

“I am not dressing up with you.”

She smiles and pulls out a headband with two little ghosts perched atop springs on it and shakes it so they bobble around, “We’ll see.”

“No,” You snatch the headband away from her, “No we will not see. I am putting my foot down. I’m gutter stomping your freaky Halloween fetish into thousands of tiny jagged weirdo pieces.”

She leans in towards you with the cheekiest expression imaginable, and you struggle to remain stern faced. Of all the things you could and should be thinking- the only thought on your mind is, ‘there’s no way we’re going to fuck on all of these decorations’. 

She takes the novelty headband and slips in onto you, “We’ll see,” She flicks at one of the cartoon ghosts and kisses you on the cheek, “Now help me hang up those spiders you so expertly blew.”

You go to say something witty back, but even after years together, she still makes your palms sweaty and your brain turn to soggy oatmeal, so all you manage is an acquiescent, “Okay.”

She boops your nose, “And I think you’ll come around about ‘not drething up with me’ once you see what I got for you.” 

You scoff at her impersonation of your lisp, “I highly fucking doubt it.”

\----

She got you to dress up with her.

“Hahaha oh man you look adorable.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Well hey, Aradia makes one hell of a Trinity.”

“Check out your own fucking girlfriend.”

“Forgive me; I wouldn’t want to anger ‘The One’.”

“I will actually fucking strangle you, go away.”

Dave laughs and waves to that glasses kid you can never remember the name of, “As much as I’d fuckin’ love to stay and shoot the breeze, Keanu,” He smirks and saunters off, leaving his unfinished sentence behind. 

Red pill or blue pill, right now you’d rather a cyanide pill. That’s pretty clever; you’ll have to remember that so you can say it to absolutely everybody, probably more than once over the course of the night. It depends on who comes over to the corner you’re hiding (sulking) in. 

You hate parties. It’s too loud, there are too many people. It smells like alcohol and sweat.

Karkat will probably show soon and you can have someone to hang out with who also does not want to be here. 

Aradia gradually swims from conversation to conversation, people-hopping her way over to you. 

“Are you just gonna stand here propped up against this wall like a big brooding nerd all night?” 

“No, I’ll probably go get drunk out in the backyard a bit later.”

“There are people out the back too.”

“Well fuck, I guess I am just gonna stand here like a big brooding nerd propped up against this wall all night then.”

She grabs at your hang and tugs you gently in the direction of the growing crowd, “Come on, you need to have some fun.”

“I do have fun, I have never ending boundless fucking amounts of fun, I am positively overflowing with joy- in fact,” You anchor your feet in the ground, “I think I may have a little bit too much fun. I should probably tone down all this fun-having; it could be bad for my health. You don’t want me to die of an excitement overdose, do you?”

“Sollux stop being such a baby,” She tugs at your arm half-heartedly.

“No.”

“Pleeeease.”

“No.”

“Yes, you’ll have fun if you give it a chance!”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

She lets out a resigned sigh and releases your arm, “Fine, but you have to dance with me later.”

“There is approximately zero chance of that happening.”

“Funny, you’ve said that twice today now.”

“Sometimes I really dislike you.”

She pokes you in the stomach, “No you don’t, you love me.”

You scoff, “Yeah, but I have no idea why.”

She perches on her tip-toes and plants a quick kiss on your check, “When I come back I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“That’s a little rapey, Aradia.”

She waves a hand dismissively, only half hearing your comment over the blaring music. 

\------

Within the hour, you grow way too fucking sick and tired of looking like an old goth’s plastic covered couch and change back into your hoodie and jeans. You flop down onto Aradia’s bed and consider just going to sleep, or hiding away in the closet, until the party is over. 

You grab the book on her bedside table and flick through it absently. It’s something about archaeology, probably. You aren’t really sure. There are pictures of rocks and old timey paintings of long dead civilisations, stuff she likes. You plonk it back onto her nightstand and stretch your arms out above your head. 

The music and chatter is muffled to a tolerable volume in here, it’s almost relaxing background noise. Almost. You close your heavy lids and start to drift.

The Megido house is never really quiet. Aradia doesn’t like the silence, which is understandable. She’s lived alone for longer than any of you. Or at least with a guardian like Damara, it’s close enough to being alone. You didn’t really luck out in the guardian department either, but at least you had a few good years with your brother before his accident.  
You’re fairly certain Damara was always a crazy bitch, but you don’t think anyone really understood the extent of her fucking psycho-hyper-insanity.

Every town is built around something. Usually, it’s a large shopping centre, or a huge monopolised business. 

Your town gravitates around Mother Skaia Rehabilitation Centre.

Mother Skaia Hospital for Fucking Insane, Unstable, or in Any Other Way Mental, Shiteaters.

You’ve visited a couple of times, mainly as moral support for Aradia. Funny though, she never visited her sister. You wouldn’t have either, if you were her. 

Fuck Damara.

You hate ever incarnation of Zahhak, but still, fuck Damara. 

“Hey, I thought you’d be here.”

You open one eye slightly to watch Aradia sit down next to you.

“Mm, ten points to team obvious.”

“You got changed,” she flicks your knee.

“Yeah, all that leather was giving me BDSM rash. And you can’t talk, since when does Trinity wear such a spooky dress?” you tug gently at her ‘special Halloween frock’. The orange dress with little black bats on it Kanaya made her for her birthday last year quickly became her most cherished item of clothing, even though she will only wear it once a year.

“Sollux, please, as if I’m not going to wear the Halloween frock.”

“You’re right, you wear the shit out of that Halloween frock, you go girl.”

“Are you drunk?”

You laugh even though it’s not funny, “I have had as much alcohol as I have had fun.”

“You should really just loosen up a little, even Karkat’s having fun.”

“Is Terezi here too?”

“Yeah, they arrived together.”

You smile, “Excellent.”

She looks at you quizzically, “Do you have a plan coming to fruition or something here?”

You pat at your chest, motioning for her to lie down, “I am the mastermind.”

She shakes her head but complies, “Fine, you get ten minutes of pity cuddles and then I’m leaving.”

You wrap your arms around her, “But I’m finally starting to have fun, can’t you just stay here?”

“Nope, I have a party to run- the many responsibilities of a host must be upheld.”

You groan and tighten your hold, “Fine, I wouldn’t want to stand between you and getting your fill of the Halloween festivities.”

“We should go trick or treating next year.”

“Fuck no.”

\-----

Your head hurts. You rub the nape of your neck and stretch until your back cracks. The lingering smell of marijuana and shame still sticks to your clothes and your chest feels empty. You gaze around the shit tip living room and your eyes fix on the Scooby Doo menu screen with its catchy little jingle playing over and over again on the television. 

It makes you feel even emptier, as though your insides were a maelstrom. 

The little red light on the answering machine is blinking, so you press play as you get up to go look in the fridge for no reason other than for something to do that isn’t nothing.  
There are two missed calls, the first is from Karkat. 

“So you’re not answering the fucking phone, huh? Well I don’t know if that’s good or bad but whatever, we might be a little bit later home than anticipated. Some shit happened that I don’t really know how the fuck to explain, so I won’t even make a pathetic floundering attempt to. Terezi says hi.”

You process the message as you scan the bare shelves of the refrigerator. The second call is from Latula. 

“Yo, Captor Jr. Y’know that I think you’re rad and love you heaps, that’s why I’m calling to let you know I’m holding the force way the fuck back for you. Talk about favours. Anyway, I’m going to do the whole interview thing with you myself, because I’m the damn boss and they have to listen to me or I’ll fire their loser asses. Give me a buzz when you get this message and let me know when it’s sweet for me to come over, I’m pretty sure you don’t really want to come down to the station, and frankly, there’s a shitload of damn paperwork when you gotta do it all fancylike that I am waaaay too busy to bother with. We hope you’re okay. Love ya.”

You close the fridge door and just stand, motionless, irresolute of what to do next. You walk out into the foyer, not even bothering to lock the door behind you. You don't know where you're going, but you don't really give a single shit.

You need to get out of here.  
 


	15. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a smoker, an arsonist, and an invincible boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do not condone the burning down of anyones house, evil bitch or not.  
> just dont do it, okay  
> or if you do, dont get caught  
> and if you do get caught, do not drag me into this i told you not to

“What time is it?”

“Well, considering it’s been about twenty seconds since you asked last time, I’d say probably still nine thirty,” You drum your fingers on the arm-rest impatiently, “What are we even waiting for? It’s dark, let’s just go already.”

“For someone who nearly had an aneurism over my plan, you seem awfully eager.”

“There’s a giant fucking difference between being eager and wanting to get something over and done with.”

She snorts, “Okay.”

You’ve been parked about a hundred meters out from Vriska’s house for nearly two hours now. There are no lights on inside and you have no fucking idea why you’re still here. To be quite honest, you are getting real sick of this shit real quick.

“Terez-”

“Five more minutes.”

You groan and roll your head back. You’re tired and hungry, the chips didn’t last long and you regret not buying more. Just one more thing that you fucked up hilariously. 

“I’m going to call Sollux and make sure he’s not dead.”

She grunts an affirmative, and you proceed to leave him a heartfelt message after he fails to respond. You aren’t worried.

Terezi runs her hands along the dash, leaning over you to feel around for the glove-box latch.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She answers with a concentrated grunt, and then an accomplished hiss when the hatch swings down.

“Oh my God what are you looking for? I can just get it for you.”

She shushes you and rifles through the loose papers, broken CDs, and other miscellaneous shit Gamzee must have thought would be useful to have on hand.

“Earth to Terezi, as the one with eyesight here I could literally cut your search time down into nonexistence.” 

“Ugh,” She slams the hatch closed in defeat, “Do you have a lighter?”

“A lighter?”

“Yes, just give me your damn lighter Karkat.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Yes you do.”

You do have one, but God knows you can’t tell her that.

“No, I fucking don’t.”

“Karkat, as the one with a killer sense of smell here, I could literally cut down your argument into nonexistence.”

“Don’t tell me you can smell the fucking lighter fluid or something because is the epitome of absolute horseshit.”

“No, dummy, my poor nostrils have been assaulted by your stinky cigarettes all day.”

“Fuck off, I haven’t been smoking.”

“You so have.”

You so have.

“No, I haven’t”

“Yes you have. Jesus Christ, Karkat, we can argue about your nasty habits later, just give me your lighter.”

“I don’t smoke anymore, therefore I do not have a lighter- do you see why I can’t fucking comply with your request here.”

“I honestly do not give a single shit if you have taken up sucking tar again, or maybe I do- but not right now because we have bigger fish to fry. Give me your lighter.”

“Fuck, fine,” You sigh and shove your hand into your pocket and pull out the damn lighter and throw it at her, “Take it.”

She grabs it from where it lands in her lap and flips open the lid. You know she can’t see the flame, but it almost seems like she can. 

“Okay, awesome. Let’s go.”

She swings open the door and, clutching her cane, taps around to the front of the car. You follow suit, because it’s not like there’s anything else you could have done. You didn’t put up with this much shit just to be left behind. 

“Hey hey hey, don’t forget the petrol, Smokey.”

“Well fuck me, please excuse my forgetfulness,” You catch the closing door and lean back in to grab the tankard.

How the fuck did she even smell the smoke on you? You haven’t bummed one all day- much to your immense displeasure.  
You had a few last night outside the hospital, and you haven’t showered. You hiss under your breath. Rookie mistake.

Once you tap on the hood next to her, letting her know you’re positively raring and ready to go, she takes off walking in the wrong direction. You gently steer her body in the correct direction, in the ‘I’m-not-helping-so-don’t-think-I’m-being-a-condescending-asshole-but-you’re-doing-a-blind-thing’ way you and she have long since established.

“We’re going to burn her house down, aren’t we?”

She cackles and smacks your shin with her cane, probably on purpose.

“Just do what I tell you. Your first order is keep quiet. I know it’ll be difficult for you, but please attempt to put a damn sock in it unless you’re looking to go to prison- and from what I gathered from your minor breakdown, this is not the case.”

You drop your voice to a harsh whisper, “I can keep quiet, just you watch, I can be the quietest motherfucker you’ve never heard.”

She pffts you dismissively, “How close are we?”

“Ten meters maybe, all the lights are off- it looks like she’s either not home or asleep. Does she even sleep? Is that a thing she does? Or does she just, stay up forever, plotting and scheming and just generally being an awful shitty person?”

“She’s home. Now be useful and help me around the back.”

“Wait, why are we going around the back? Can’t we just chuck this shit all over the door, light it up and leave? Isn’t that that we were going to do here?”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

You slosh the petrol around in its heavy plastic container, “That’s why I’m here isn’t it?”

“Well, help me then.”

The back of Vriska’s ominous looking two storey shithole has no upper floor windows. Meaning, if she hears something, the only way she could see you is to come downstairs. Or at least that’s how Terezi explains it to you. You are kinda worried as to how she knows so much about the layout of this house- but still manage to not be surprised in the fucking slightest.

“Okay, now what, Hannibal?”

“Hannibal?” She scrunches her nose, “Like Hannibal Lecter?”

“No, John Hannibal Smith, from The A Team.”

She frowns and shrugs her shoulders.

“You know, smokes the big ass cigar, ‘I love it when a plan comes together’. Hannibal.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Are you actually serious, how do you not know who he is??”

“Shut up and open the door super nerd.”

You walk over to the door, “Yeah, because people just leave their fucking doors unlocked in real life, is this seriously your pl-” you turn the knob and the door swings open, “Okay, what the fuck.”

She taps up the stairs and pushes past you, “Who’s around to break in?”

“Just an insane wannabe arsonist and her fucking stupid asshole partner.” You murmur under your breath and follow her in.

You grab her arm and lead her around, to avoid her knocking into anything and making enough noise to wake the beast. 

It’s dark, so you have trouble making your way around yourself, but with some squinting and determination, your eyes adjust. And your limited eyesight is better than her crippling blindness. Disability can be a bitch.

“Okay we’re in what I assume is her lounge room. Weird, I was expecting more corpses and voodoo.”

She grins, “Do it.”

You pop the cap off the gasoline container and, with surprisingly little hesitation, begin shaking that shit like it’s a hysterical friend. You pour some out onto the table, then onto the floor, the curtains, over to the couch. On any surface that you can, you tip that shit out everywhere.

In the pit of your stomach, you feel amazing. Whether it’s the rush of destroying someone’s shit who really deserves to have their shit destroyed- or the fact that Terezi chose you to help her fuck a bitch up, you don’t know, or care.

Once the container is empty and the room is thick with the heavy stench of petrol, you turn back to her.

“It’s done.”

She pulls the lighter out of her pants pocket and flips open the lid. 

“This is for Aradia,” The flames dance around, almost as though anticipating the destruction, “See you in hell, bitch.”

She throws the lighter down and immediately the floor takes light.

“Oh fuck,” You hiss, “Fuck fuck fuck, Terezi, come on!”

You grab her arm, and pull her out of the house, closing the door behind you and the fire slinks from the floor up the dripping curtains.

Sprinting across the field and back to the car, the house glows behind you. You can still feel the heat even this far away. You’re practically dragging a cackling Terezi along behind you.

“What does it look like?” She asks, flames glinting off the reflective lenses of her glasses.

You glance back over your shoulder to see the winding columns of fire crawling up the sides of the house, spreading faster than you imagined it would have.

“Uh, I don’t know- orange?”

She scoffs as you throw open the passenger door, push her in, slide across the hood of your car, and jump into the driver’s seat, all in one fluid movement. It must have looked fucking cool- but no one will ever know.

You turn the ignition.

“Wait.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me!? No way, we are OUT.”

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s fire, Terezi, you’ve seen fire before. It’s hot and orange and really bright and it kills people.”

“Is it everywhere?”

“It’s fucking everywhere.”

She nods, satisfied- knowing you are the farthest thing from a poet imaginable- and you slam into reverse.

Once you’re back on the highway you laugh. A loud, hopelessly thrilled laugh. Terezi laughs back in response, and you two hoot like only you can, a fist thrown out the window and feet stamping the floor. A laugh like nobody can understand, or know.

Terezi clumsily feels for one of your hands and twines her fingers through yours. You squeeze her back, repressing your confusion and suspicion.

You drive for a while longer like that, hand in hand with the only girl in the world who could convince you to burn down someone’s house. Kite high on adrenaline and possibly gasoline fumes.

“Hey,” Terezi says, “Did you really mean what you said before?”

“About what?”

“When you said you were still in love with me.”

Whether or not arson makes you invincible- it sure feels like it does. So instead of pushing her back with an angry lie, or avoiding the question completely, you say, “Yeah.”

She grins, “Pull over.”

You do so with no uncertainty, you don’t care about what happens after tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having a crisis of faith and im not really sure if i really want to continue with this. I probably will because i have made a spiritual commitment and already know exactly where this is going and it'll feel like a waste, but idk. I love writing and i love writing this, i just am feelin a little ashamed that im polluting the internet and people (given- not many) are reading this asshole stink piece of shit.  
> i will more than likely be back next week with another chapter of bullshit for nobody to enjoy.  
> ignore my insecurities /dismissive hand-wave


	16. Kanaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bad houseguest, a first time for everything, and something important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch  
> bet you thought youd seen the last of me

You have not slept on a sofa in a very long time and, evidently, not without good reason. You stretch, above yourself and your joints creak in remonstration. You massage the back of your strained neck- if only you weren’t such a short sighted fool, you could have gotten a cushion, or, perhaps, not slept on the couch at all. That would have been a prudent decision. 

You stagger to the kitchen, half-hearted sleep still fogging your mind. Rubbing your tired eyes, you lean against the cold granite of the island bench and curse yourself for being such an appalling houseguest. This dishes, packed tidily, collectively on the side of the sink- all of which cleaned without you. 

So much for being the reliable friend.

You gather the dishes and choose to do something constructive with your existence, instead of simply absorbing both your own and everyone else’s time and energy through being useless, like a black hole, born from tedium instead of a dying star. 

You collect some of the crockery and, as quietly as possible as to not wake up your gratuitously charitable host, begin to pack it away. 

You have visited this house often, and are familiar with the placement of the dishes- but worry for a second that perhaps their locations have migrated, and you will have to search for the appropriate cupboards.

Opening the first drawer you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Bless Jane Crocker. Bless her consistency.

It’s the little things in life we must be appreciative of. 

You endeavour to avoid making a racket, but the clap of porcelain on porcelain, and the metallic clinking of steel cutlery is somewhat unavoidable. Every clash makes you cringe and whip your head around to verify that an angry, tired Jane is not standing behind you. 

Paranoid does not even begin to cover it. 

Only when you’re done does the tension leave your body, and you relax against the counter. At least you have done something mildly valuable. 

You glance over at the wall-clock. It’s 8am. 

It has been over 24 hours since you last saw Rose. She informed you that she would be working late, but this is getting ridiculous. Why can’t she just respond to your calls and give you some small peace? 

Maybe you should visit the Rehabilitation Centre and see her yourself. 

No. You can’t do that. 

What if she doesn’t want to see you? What if she is ignoring you because you are bothering her?

Maybe she’s sick of you.

You don’t want to know that for sure. You will adhere desperately to any kind of hope you have. 

“She’s busy.” You whisper to yourself, although, you aren’t fooling anyone. 

You consider waking Jane. She has a rather important party to cater today and would probably appreciate the time to prepare. 

Yes, you should wake Jane for these reasons, and no selfish ones whatsoever. You don’t need the distraction and companionship- you are protecting your good friend’s career. 

The Roxy/Jane residence is small, but comfortable, with only one bedroom. You believe there is actually more than one bedroom, but it is only one of them that is utilized as such.

You let out the slightest whisper of a grin when you study Jane, asleep, spread out like a drooling starfish, atop the covers, clothes unchanged and glasses unremoved.  
She looks so ludicrously peaceful you almost hate to wake her.

Almost.

“Jane.”

She snorts a snore but otherwise is unresponsive.

“Janet Crocker,” You call, still rather softly, from the doorway, “I believe you have a rather difficult task to perform today and suppose you would like as much time as possible in which to perform it.”

She groans near comically, and goes to rub her eyes- but instead is intercepted by her glasses.

“Oh Lordy,” She removes them with a limp arm and completes her prior task, “What time is it?”

“Eight, give or take a small number of minutes.”

Although struck by lightning, she shoots up straight, “Oh damn it all!”

You watch, containing your amusement, as she, quite literally, falls off the bed and pushes past you.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I woke you?” You follow suit, at a much more leisurely pace, to the kitchen. Because of course it’s to the kitchen. Jane Crocker has no interest in any other room.

“I HAVE CUPCAKES TO BOX, AND A GOLIATH OF A CAKE TO DECORATE!” Jane calls, almost screaming out of stress and to be heard above the furious clangs of steel on stone.

You shake your head and grab her shoulders, “Jane.”

She tries to shake out of your comfort-grip, “Kanaya I ha-“

“Jane. Calm yourself.”

She gives you a look of pure anxiety, but stops struggling.

“I will help you, okay.”

“Even WITH well greased teamwork, this is near imposs-“

“Would you rather me to box or decorate?”

She clears her throat and straightens her face to one much more composed, “You box, I’ll decorate.”

You pat her shoulders and release her, “Excellent.”

She begins retrieving her decorating tools from various cupboards around the kitchen, “The boxes require folding; they’re in the cupboard above the refrigerator.” 

You check where specified but, “There are no boxes in here.”

“Excuse me?”

You turn to her and point, “There aren’t any boxes.”

Her face twists to one of distraught alarm, and you worry that she is going to drop the large bundle of tools in her arms to the floor. “Jane, don’t you freak out again. Stay clam- another panic attack is not going to create boxes.” 

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, “I must have forgotten them at the bakery.”

You collect the tools from her, “Go and retrieve them, I am more than capable of maintaining a flow of productivity.”

She looks at you with a degree of uncertainty, “Have you had any experience decorating cakes?”

“I earn my living creating beautiful things, how different can this be?”

She nods, trying to convince herself more than she is trying to convince you, “Okay, well I trust you. I will leave this in your, hopefully, extremely capable hands!”

She stands motionless, still nodding.

“The longer you linger, the less time we have.”

As though snapped out of some kind of baking trance, she claps her hands together, “Right! Well I better move my caboose,” She grabs her keys off the wall-hook and dashes to the door calling, “I will be back soon!”

You smile resignedly and shake your head at the decorating paraphernalia. 

“Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

 

\-------

 

On her return, Jane seems impressed with your result. You have completed one of the tiers in a reasonably short period of time. Regardless of what anyone says, you are resolute in your belief that cake decorating is eerily similar to sewing. Minus the sewing aspect. 

“Oh my! Kanaya, this is beautiful!”

You allow yourself a small amount of smugness, “Yes, well, I am not known for manufacturing things that aren’t.” 

She hugs you tightly, “Thank you so much! You are absolutely incredible!”

You pat her back with slight awkwardness, “You’re more than welcome, but we have other things to attend to.”

She releases you and nods firmly, “Roger that, I can finish up decorating and you can get onto boxing, less you are jet set on finishing your own creation?”

You wave your hand dismissively, “I can box.” 

You work in silence, save Jane’s concentrated humming, for a while. It’s harder than you expected, fitting these cupcakes into their large, pink boxes, without ruining their painstakingly perfect icing. You catch yourself poking out your tongue out of absorption.

“Kanaya?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you heard from Rose as of yet?”

You fit in the cupcake you were working on and place the filled box aside and begin to fold out the next, “No.”

Your response is met with silence, so you glance behind you at Jane. She looks like the epitome of internal conflict. “Why?”

She shakes her head and forces a smile, “No reason.” She goes back to piping an icing ring matching your own onto the second tier.

“Jane.”

“I was just wondering is all.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“What about yourself? Have you been in touch with Roxy?”

Her shoulders seize up and she chokes out a forced, “No.”

Anxiety begins to swell in the pit of your chest, “Jane, what are not telling me?”

She places the piping bag on the bench and sighs. She looks at you, diverged.

“What’s wrong with Rose?” You ask quietly, voice nearly failing.

Jane opens her mouth to answer, but she is interrupted by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Her face lights up, “That could be her!”

You feel hopeless; the excitement at the prospect of being wanted has left you. If it truly is Rose, she’s probably calling to tell you how awful you are, how she never wants to be within any sort of proximity to you ever again. 

Jane seems optimistic, smiling and nodding. If anybody could understand what’s going on, it would be her. So why are you still so fucking terrified to pick up the phone?

You reach into your pocket slowly and pull out your mobile. 

Checking the ID, you let out a breath of what must be relief. Bitter, miserable, relief. 

“I need to talk to you about some shit.”

“Karkat, I’m rather busy, so if you wish for me to come and retrieve you again, just know I am currently unable to.”

Jane’s face almost seems to fall.

“No, I don’t ‘wish for you to come and retrieve me again’. Jesus, I’m not completely fucking worthless.”

“Okay, but I am currently preoccupied, so if this is important could you be decisive and to the point.”

“I still don’t think you should tell her over the phone.” Someone says in the background

“I still don’t think you should be allowed to give anyone advice. Ever.”

“Is that Terezi?”

“Uh, no.”

“Hi Kanaya!”

“Hello Terezi.”

Karkat groans, frustrated, “Look, I called for an actual serious fucking reason, and if you want me to be quick so you can go back to sloppy makeouts with your damn girlfriend, let’s skip the fucking pleasantries.” 

“I’m with Jane, actually.”

Jane calls out a half-hearted greeting and then goes back to icing the cake.

“Wait what are you doing wi- fuck it, I don’t care, this is actually important.”

“Just spit it out so I can proceed with my previous commitment.” 

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “You might want to sit down.”

“Karkat I will be fi-“

“Seriously, sit down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for the meme  
> I also have just come to the realisation that my commentary may be extremely annoying so from here on out I will be a tolerable human being and shut my goddamn pie hole unless absolutely necessary (hahaha oh wow lets see how long this lasts)


	17. Dirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news, A devastated friend, and Boner station (dont get your hopes up)

"Jake open the door."

"No! Go away!"

"Look, buddy, we both know that's not going to happen, so why dont you just open the door and talk to me?"

"I don't want to talk to anybody God damnit!" He chokes on a sob,  "Just leave me alone."

Your heart heaves in your chest, "Jake please dont shut me out."

He doesnt respond. You sigh and slide down against the bathroom door to sit with your back against it.  
"I'm not leaving, so you either let me in, or you get comfy, because thats your new home, rent is two hundred a month and no pets."

Nothing but muffled sniffles.

You take off your shades and rub your eyes wearily. Today was going so fucking promisingly too. He had even convinced you to take the whole day off because, hey, why not sink your business to watch shitty movies and have sex with your boyfriend all day? Sounds like a Goddamn plan. 

Now it seems youll be spending your first day off in months sitting on the hard wooden floor outside the bathroom, listening to said boyfriend cry with nothing you can do about it.

Fucking splendid. 

You rest your head against the door, "You dont happen to want to build a snowman by any chance?"

He doesnt laugh. Of course he doesn't laugh you insensitive prick, his best friend just died.

What kind of boyfriend are you?

What kind of person are you?

Not a very good one. In either category, evidently.  

"Dirk I told you just," He hiccups, "Just go away!"

"And I told you, not going to happen."

"Fuck," he sobs, "Can't you see that I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE!?"

You feel physically ill, but you cant let him know how much that hurts you. He doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, hes just upset.

"You may not want me here, but sometimes it ain't about what you do and dont want, Jake. Sometimes I have to be the asshole." 

"You're ALWAYS the asshole!"

You laugh dryly, "Yeah I s'pose that's true."

Who are you even kidding anymore? He has every God given right on the planet to be more than thoroughly pissed with you. 

Kanaya calls with news that his best friend died,  and the first fucking question you think to ask, the only God damn question is, when do you think Sollux can come back into work?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Oh yeah, thats right, you're a shitty awful human being.

"Jake, look, I am the epitome of stupidity.  I am probably the absolute worst person either of us have ever met in our entire lives, and I have no right being around others because my jackassery is probably contagious. I know that you don't want to talk to me, you probably don't even want to look at me right now, but I've had enough of being pushed away for a thousand fucking lifetimes, so if we're gonna go round two on this shit, I'm sure as hell doing it right this time. I'm sorry."

He hiccups hard and you brace yourself for his backlash.

"You aren't the worst person I've ever met," He says softly, "Top five, maybe."

A small relieved smile tugs at the corner of your lips, "Oh? Pray tell, who is lucky number one on Jake English's list of awful examples of the human race?"

He lets out what sounds like a giggle trapped in a sob, "Probably Eridan's cousin. Cronut, was it?"

"Oh God, Cronus."

He definately laughs this time, although his voice is still thick with tears, "That's the one. "

"You're absolutely fuckin' right, he is the worst person I've ever met." 

"That whole family is rather..."

"Awful? Disgusting? Full of shiteating crumpetfuckers?"

"...Strange," He chokes on another laugh, "Crumpetfucker? That sounds like something-"

"That you'd say? Yeah, I know, I'm an embarrassment to my family name. Dave would have a motherfucking field day with me right now."

He makes a noise akin to amusement, but it could just be another crying sound. You aren't certain. 

"Can I come in yet, or would you rather me just hang out here?"

"I uh," sniff, "I would rather you not see me like this, to be honest."

You actually laugh, "Jake please, I've seen you ass up, butt naked, red faced and covered in cum, I don't think this is going to bother me."

He makes a flustered shrieking noise, like if an exclamation mark was an onomatopia. 

"What, I'm sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?"

"A little bit yes!!"

You grin wickedly, "I didn't realise it bothered you to hear me talk about things like how you bite your lip when you're on top, as if you're concentrating really hard." You drawl out the 'really' and he squeaks again.

"Dirk!"

"Yeah, say my name."

"Oh good Lord, shut up!"

"Nope, sorry, there are no brakes on this train, next stop, boner station."

"It would be splendid if you DIDN'T!"

"Ooh Dirk, " You moan, "Oh your dick is so huge, fuck me, fuck me Dirk."

You start mewling and really getting into it when the door swings open and you fall into the bathroom, landing hard on your back.

His face is bright red, from the crying or embarrassment you cant be sure, but he looks equally parts mortified, amused, and irritated.

"Are you aroused?" You ask, still grinning.

You can see tries not to grin back, but fails, so instead he rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation, "Not in the slightest."

"Oh please, I can tell you're desperate for my flesh sword."

"Wow, you're right! I was so wrapped up in being disgusted, I didn't notice I was itching for a good old porking from a man who is still mentally stuck in eighth grade! Thank you for bringing this to my attention!!"

You breathe a laugh and he helps you to your feet. 

You try to get a good look at him, to assess the situation, but he goes to turn away from you. 

Before he can, you grab his face and kiss him deeply. He seems to want to pull away at first contact, but throws himself into it at second thought. 

You wrap your arms around him as he starts to break down again, moving your kiss into probably the tightest, most intimate hug you've ever been in. 

You're a fair amount taller than he is, so you rest your cheek on his head as he cries into the crook of your neck- only wishing you could do more. 

"I know it sounds like bullshit, but everythings going to be alright."

He says something, but his words are lost into your skin.

"What was that Jakey?"

Jakey, a pet name reserved for emergencies. 

He pulls away slightly, and his tear stained green eyes meet your less tear stained- but concerned nonetheless- orange ones.

"I said I love you."

You press your forehead to his, "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my whole life, and even though I'm in your top five worst people ever, I will never stop thanking fucking whoever convinced you that I was worth loving back."

"You convinced me, you giant dork."


	18. Dave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a safe driver, an overdue visit, and a premonition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiatus is over bitches

“I’m just saying, there is absolutely no way in hell that Iron Man would beat Batman in a fight.”

“And I’m just saying that you’re wrong.”

John turns to you with a scrunched expression, “You can’t be serious, there isn’t even room for comparison!”

“Yeah, because Iron Man kicks ass and Batman is a brooding douchebag who has an unsettling obsession with underage boys in skin-tight clothing. Eyes on the road, Egbert.”

He ignores you, “For starters, they aren’t even from the same UNIVERSE, so how is this fight even taking place?” 

“Look at the fucking road John.”

“And in which universe? Who has the home ground advantage? And are they allowed backup, because if we’re going to get into Avengers vs. Justice League, then the gap just widens.”

“I swear to god if you don’t look at the road I am going to punch you in your dorky fucking face, John look at the FUCKING ROAD.”

He rolls his eyes, but turns back to the front. 

Your name is Dave Strider and you don’t really feel like dying in a fiery fucking explosion today. 

“You’re just avoiding my questions because you know that I’m right.”

“I’m not avoiding anything besides, maybe, a horrible deat- use your damn indicator Egbert, are you TRYING to kill us both?”

“Oh my God you are such a nerd.”

“Whatever.”

He laughs, “You’re not even denying it!”

You snort and fold your arms. Safe driving is important, okay. “This universe so there’s no advantage, 1v1. Iron Man would take Batman to the cleaners, and then pay the fuckin’ bill.”

“Why would they go to the cleaners?”

“It’s a metaphor, you dickbag.” 

He pffts you dismissively, “Metaphor or not, Batman would own. End of story.”

“Okay John, if it makes you feel better about your crippling retardedness, we can agree to disagree.”

He goes to say something else, but is interrupted by the Ghostbusters theme. You nearly laugh. He’s almost too dorky to be real.

“Don’t you answer that, driving while on the phone is the leading cause of death in this damn country.”

“Seri-“

“I’m not fucking around.”

He sighs, “Well you answer it then, Safety Dave.”

“Fine, where is it?”

“In my pocket.”

Oh fucking hell, of course it’s near his butt. You pretend your pulse doesn’t quicken, like a nervous sixth grader's before the big dance. The song keeps playing, as though it’s the Goddamn soundtrack to your pathetic infatuation. Which it kinda is.

“Well?” He prompts, “Are you going to get it, or have you changed your mind about me killing us both?”

“This is just an excuse for me to grope your booty, isn’t it John?” You tease to hide your own intent.

“It was your idea!”

Oh shit, it was too. 

You smirk, hoping that’s enough to convince him there’s some greater irony to this that he couldn’t possibly understand, and reach for his phone- your palm cupping his ass. Fuck yeah. 

“Wait, who is it?”

You check the ID, trying not to grin over the success of operation hiney heist, “Its Jane.”

“Oh shit,” He slaps his phone out of your hands, “Don’t answer that.”

“Haha, she is gonna be mega pissed.” 

He looks a mixture of distressed and amused, “You don’t think I know that?”

“How many times has she called now?” You reach down to pick up his phone off the floor, “Four?”

“Five.”

“Oh shit dude, She’s going to chainsaw massacre your ass.” You’d like to chainsaw massacre his ass too, to be completely honest.

“Jane is a lovely person; I’m sure someone with a heart as full of forgiveness as hers can move past this without chainsaw massacre-ing anyone. Especially not her own brother.”

“What does she even want?”

He pulls around the corner and you can see your destination nearing. Not that anyone would be able to tell, but you can feel the nerves returning. Fuck off with all these feelings.

“Well, yesterday she wanted help with a big catering thingy, but we already agreed to hang out. I’m not sure what she wants now, probably to yell at me. I feel kinda bad, but a commitment is a commitment, right?”

“Mm.” You answer, distracted and half listening.

John parks the car a little away from the actual car park- probably knowing how stupidly uncomfortable this place makes you. You wish that you didn’t feel this way, because you know that it’s not rational, and you have no business even giving a shit. But it still lingers around, like a broccoli fart stuck in a couch cushion.

“Are you okay?” He asks with a face full of concern. Fuck off with his face and his concern. 

“Yeah man, I am the pinnacle of peachy.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but unbuckles his belt anyway, “Hey, Dave.”

“What?”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

He smiles and you aren’t sure if you’re forcing yourself to return it, “Its fine.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to by any means,” He opens up the door and gets out, you follow suit, “I know that you have issues with this whole situation, and I also know you’ll try to deny that- but we both know it’s true. I just didn’t want to come alone, so thanks.”

“I said its fine.” You walk across the street together and into the actual car park, “I haven’t seen Jade in a while anyway.”

You’re about halfway to the building when your phone rings. You pull it out, “Huh.”

John stops walking and looks back at you, “What is it?”

“Jane.” You press the reject button, set your phone to vibrate and pocket it again, “Does she know we’re together?” You scream internally at your wording, but John doesn’t seem to notice.

“She could probably make a calculated guess. I wonder what she wants.”

“Do you wanna call her back before we go in?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, we can call her afterwards.”

You shrug and follow him up to the door. All of your internal alarms are going off, and all you want to do is hightail it the fuck out of here. 

“Hello and welcome to Mother Skaia Rehabilitation Centre,” The receptionist greets you half-heartedly, not looking up from his book, “Who is it that you’re here to see?”

John goes up to the desk while you gaze as indifferently as possible around the waiting room. It’s like an old person’s house, with a play pen that has a shitload of colouring crap and toys they stopped manufacturing years ago. A bunch of old, ugly plastic chairs line the wall, occasionally intercepted by a sad looking plastic plant. The waiting room is completely devoid of people, save for you and John, and the receptionist, but Kankri Vantas’ position as a person is debatable. 

Sunday must not be the prime time to visit the mentally unwell.

John hands you a visitors pass and a sticker with your name on it.

“Do I really have to wear this fuckin’ ‘hello my name is’ bullshit?”

“Yes,” He peels it off and slaps it onto your chest, “Deal with it.”

You roll your eyes, although the action is wasted on account of nobody being able to see them. You follow John to the next door, where you both scan your passes. It makes a promising sounding noise and unlocks. 

You had a lot of misconceptions about the Rehabilitation Centre before you actually visited the place. It’s more like a really shitty hotel with lots of group therapy and planned activities than a mental hospital. In some ways, you think that’s worse.

It’s like a retirement home. Retirement from normality. 

Your distaste must be obvious because John touches your arm lightly and asks, “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

Your mouth forms into a hard line, which is enough to confirm that you are most certainly not fucking alright.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” 

You look at him incredulously, expecting him to be grinning in anticipation of your witty comeback, but he looks completely genuine. 

Shit.

“Uh,” You try not to panic, what the fuck are you supposed to say here? 

Yeah John, I would absolutely love to hold your hand. Maybe later we can make out too? That would be cool. By the way, I’m kind of in love with you. Haha! Isn’t that hilarious? What a funny fucking joke I am!

It doesn’t even matter though, because before you can stumble around some shitty thin-veiled excuse, he grabs your hand himself.

“You can say it’s ironic, if it makes you feel better.”

You grunt feebly, trying to keep your hands from sweating like a gold medallist the obesity Olympics.

“The visitors room is down here,” He points just down the corridor with the hand that’s not entwined with yours, “Jade isn’t in the dangerous patients unit, so we can go wherever we like once we meet up there.”

He seems excited. You wish you were excited- but all you are is guilty. 

“Are you sure she even wants to see me?”

“Of course she does! Last time I came to visit she kept asking about you, she sees Rose all the time and I visit whenever I can- but she hasn’t seen you in months!”

“Yeah, but I would want me to stay the fuck away if I was her.”

“Well you aren’t her, are you?”

“No.”

As you get nearer to the green door, you can see a face pressed up against its small window. She must have been expecting you.  
John pulls his hand out of yours as he waves eagerly and runs to the door. They hug like they haven’t seen eachother in years, but you’re pretty sure it’s only been a week and a bit. 

She spots you and her face lights up, but you can’t move. Evidently you don’t need to, she dashes to you shouting, “DAVE!”

You’re almost knocked off your feet as she crashes into you, face buried in your chest, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“Hey, Jade.” You don’t know what to do, so you look at John. He makes a hugging gesture. You place your limbs in the appropriate places and apply pressure.

“I missed you so much!” She squeals into your torso, “Why haven’t you come to visit!?”

“Just, uh, busy… I guess.”

“Well now we get to spend all day together! Me and you and John!” 

You smile and try not to cry, “Yeah.” Your voice breaks a little.

She pulls away enough to look you in the face, “Oh no, Dave are you sad because Aradia’s dead?”

“What.”

John, who must have taken up being a goddamn ninja recently, appears beside you, “Jade, Aradia isn’t dead.”

Jade look at you, and then John, and then back to you, “It’s Sunday today.”

“Yes, it’s Sunday today.”

“She definitely is then,” Jade’s eyes water, “I just wish I could have done something. Is Jake okay?”

You glance at John, he looks so uneasy; you’d laugh if you didn’t feel the same way. 

The brief silence is interrupted by your phone vibrating in your pocket. You almost let it ring out.

Almost.

“What is it?” John asks.

You look back to him, a sick warm sense of trepidation molesting your gut, “Its Jane.”


	19. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad news, phone calls, and a fragile state of mind

It has been almost ten minutes since Kanaya finished her conversation with Karkat, but she is yet to move from her position on the couch. You are starting to worry.

“Kanaya, are you alright?”

She responds by breathing out steadily, emptying her lungs.

“Yes. I am fine.”

You begin to approach her, but she stands and pushes past you, making her way to the front door.

“Where on earth are you going?”

“I have to make some phone calls.” 

You grab her wrist before she can go too far, “What happened?”

She turns to you and clasps your hands in hers, stressing her sense of emergency, “Please, Jane, I don’t wish to interfere with your plans. Could we postpone this discussion?”

“No we cannot. I would much rather discuss it now.”

Something dull and rigid lurks behind her dark green eyes, “Jane, we both have a lot to do, and I propose we allow eachother to do so with minimal interruption.”

She tries to pull away but you strengthen your grip on her. Hell no, she isn’t leaving you high and dry like this- you did not wash all those dishes without her for diddly squat. 

“This is absolute baloney Kanaya, just tell me what happened.”

“Something awful.” 

“That’s a start, but could you possibly be a little more specific?”

She swallows hard and looks away; you start to feel the anxiety and unease come to a boil in the pit of your stomach.

“Aradia is dead.”

No.

“What?”

“She was involved in a car accident on Friday night. She was the only fatality.”

She’s joking. She has to be. Aradia can’t die, she can’t.

“No, you’re pulling my leg.”

“Unfortunately I am pulling none of your appendages.”

You release her hands and your arms come to hang limp by your sides, “Oh God.”

“I have to make some phone calls.” Her voice is a weak whisper, filled with control and resolve.

You press your hands to your eyes, forcing yourself not to cry. You wish you could be as strong as she is, like a diamond, or some kind of indestructible metal. You aren’t, but you can try.

“I’m going to help,” You say with as little emotion as possible, “I’m going to help you.”

“No, you have a celebration to cater; I will take the initiative in this responsibility.”

You breathe in sharply, attempting to keep a lid on your feelings, “With both of us we can get the job done twice as quickly. It’s a matter of efficiency.” 

You bring your hands away from your eyes, mouth in a hard, stoic line. You both stand strong, but connected by your interior fragility. A hard shell of liability. 

“A matter of efficiency,” She repeats to herself, “Okay.”

You nod, “Okay.”

\--------

Kanaya writes a list and distributes half of the names to you. A list of known associates, all whom need to know their friend is dead.

“Are you certain that you want to assist me in this? I am more than capable of doing it alone.”

“Yes, for the last time, I am certain. But, isn’t Karkat doing this?”

“No.” She scrawls some more names onto the bottom of her own list, shifting the burden away from you, “Grief is not his specialty.”

"So you're his proxy.”

“Yes.”

Your hands keep shaking, no matter how hard you try and push the thoughts aside. Part of you is screaming and thrashing, accusing you of being a bloody sociopath- your friend is dead and you refuse to mourn. You don’t refuse, though. You don’t have time to, you can’t right now. You have to stay strong, like Kanaya. You have to prove she isn’t the only one who can pull through. 

“Who are you calling first?”

She scans her list, “I’m not sure, perhaps Dirk.”

“Dirk?”

“Yes,” She raises her head to look at you, “It’s safe to assume he and Jake are together. He makes a suitable conductor of news I would prefer not to break to Jake personally.”

You lower your eyes in a small nod, “I will call John.”

She returns your nod and begins to dial. You watch stupidly as she holds the phone to her ear. As it rings, she closes her eyes and breathes in steadily, bracing herself. 

“Hello Dirk, its Kanaya.”

“Hello.” You can just make out his muffled reply.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well I will be as direct as I can. I have some bad news.”

“What is it?”

“Wait; is Jake in your company currently?”

You hear laughing on the other end of the line, “Perhaps.”

“Well, I am uncertain as to whether or not he should hear this.”

“Are you about to confess your love to me, Kanaya? I’m sorry but it’d never work between us.”

“YEAH, BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T HAVE A DICK.” Jake shouts from somewhere in the background.

You rest your face in your hands, chest aching for him, for her, for you. 

“Aradia is dead.”

You turn away and take out your own phone, unable to bear listening to that conversation any longer. After selecting John from your contacts, you wander back into the lounge-room and sit on the arm of the sofa, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hello?”

“John, I-“

“Hello? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“Is this better? Can you hea-“

“Hahaha, just kidding, I’m not here right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

You groan, shit he got you good. You hang up before leaving your message, you know he has his phone on him- he has to pick up sooner or later.

You dial his number again, and again, and again, but he doesn’t answer. If you find out he’s avoiding you, you’ll fillet him. What could he be doing that’s so bloody important anyway? You consider it for a while and then it hits you. He’s with Dave. Of course he’s with Dave.

You dial and wait patiently for him to answer.

“It’s Dave, you know what to do.”

Fuck.

“One day someone will answer the distressed sister. Call me back damnit.”

You’re frustrated and your walls are crumbling. You just want to lie down and go to sleep. For a few years. In the back of your mind, your catering job is nagging you. 

As though she can sense your wandering commitment, Kanaya calls to you, “If you feel you need to be occupied, remember you have prior commitments. As I said, I am more than capable of doing this alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You roll off the couch unceremoniously, “I just need to take these down to the shop.”

Kanaya nods, already on the phone again. She is embracing the distraction. 

The tier cake isn’t completely finished, but Kanaya boxed all the cupcakes, and you don’t care anymore. You’re honestly glad you didn’t end up having to make any calls, placing the boxes into suitable bags, you feel the cracks widening in your shell.

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” You call from the doorway. She probably heard you.

You open the boot of your car and remind yourself not to just chuck your goods in there. Cakes are delicate.

Making your way to the front of the car, you find yourself wiping accidental tears away from your eyes. You stifle a sob and clench your jaw. Frozen with your hand on the doorhandle, hunched and rigid. You can’t break down, not yet. You have things to do.

You shake your head violently and exhale.

Once your vision is sufficiently un-blurred, you buckle into the front seat and pull out of the driveway. You realise that you left your phone inside, but if you go back in, you know you won’t be able to come back out, so you disregard it. It is not your top priority right now. 

Your top priority is being strong, and strength is a fragile state of mind.


	20. Dave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A concerned girlfriend, an accurate prediction, and a colossal fuckup

John reaches for Jade’s wrist, “Dave has an important phone call to take so let’s go and hang out in the visitor’s room until he’s done, okay?”

“Joh-”

“Nope!” He goes to tug her away, but Jade seems more than happy to comply, “She called you, you deal with her.”

Jade calls back something that you don’t quite catch about being quick as they make their way back down the corridor. John smiles to her, but shoots you a privately concerned glance over his shoulder as you raise the phone to your ear.

This is such a fucking terrible idea.

You go to answer first but you’re cut off.

“David, its Kanaya.”

With a silent groan you rub your eyes underneath your shades, “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve told you that my name is Dave, I would be rich enough to wipe my ass with bricks of gold.”

“I am glad that there is no current tariff on using the apparently incorrect non-abridged version of your name.”

John’s face appears in the window of the visitor’s room. He shrugs to you and you shrug back. You’ll be a twice fucked slice of burnt toast if you have any idea as to what is going on anymore.

Kanaya clears her throat on the other line, “I suppose that you are wondering why I am contacting you on Jane’s mobile device instead of my own.”

“Not really.” You honestly didn’t even think about it.

“Well, it’s because I was worried that you would not answer my own calls.”

“What?” Everyone you know is unnecessarily complicated, “Why?”

“It seems that the Lalondes are hiding something from me, and Jane has been roped into their shenanigans. I was afraid you would also avoid my questions.”

“Okay what the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Rose is ignoring me.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself, “Join the club, sister.”

“You have been trying to get in contact with her as well?” She sounds so hopeful and stressed.

“No, she ignores me all the time. She does that. Rose is like, if passive aggression and overly-complex mind-games manifest into a human form and wore too much eyeliner.” You lean against the wall nonchalantly, “Why are you even asking me, ask my bro, he probably understands her snarky horseshit better than I do.” 

“He seemed as though he had more important things occupying his time.”

“As fuckin’ usual.”

“Yes, as fucking usual indeed.”

The line is silent and you glance back at the window, hoping to see John there again, but he’s gone.

“So you do not know where Rose is?”

“Nah, she’s not at work though, she would have embraced the opportunity to make me feel like a giant fucking tool for coming here with dislocatedly open arms if she was.”

“Why are you at the Rehabilitation Centre?”

Oh fuck.

“Uh,” You swallow. Shit, you knew this was a terrible idea. “We’re visiting Jade.”

“We?”

Wow you’re on a fucking roll, “What’s with all these questions? What are you, my mother?”

“Are you with John?”

“Oh my God what does it matter?” You really just want this conversation to be over now.

“You must really be quite taken with him, to accompany him there of all places.”

Pushing up off the wall you storm down the hall in the opposite direction of the visitor’s room, “Oh wow, yeah you caught me! I’m only here because I am currently elbow deep in his asshole and pulling out now might ruin his climax. Fuck off Kanaya you don’t know nothin’.”

She lets out a muffled laugh, as though her hand is covering her mouth, “Rose was not lying, this is fun.” You shove back through the mechanic door, and show your pass somewhat violently to the receptionist who isn’t looking anyway, “And it’s not an urban legend, you really do take on a heavier accent when you’re embarrassed.”

“Shut up oh my God it’s no wonder Rose is ignoring you.”

Kankri Vantas shushes you viciously, “Watch your language.”

You flip him off, not pausing to watch the horrified look cross his face, and head outside.

“I was only poking fun at you, there was no need for that.”

You glance around the car park, checking for people, or possible witnesses, but it’s empty. “Yeah yeah, okay,” You sit down on the steps leading into the building, “Whatever.”

“And in any case,” Her voice weakens a significant degree, “I do have something to inform you of, besides, you know…”

“Your girlfriend being an elusive shithead? I’ll let you know if I hear anything, alright?”

“Yes, thank you. But this is about another person.”

Small drops of rain begin to dampen the concrete of the car-park. You really fucking hope there’s no storm coming. You don’t deal with storms very well. Secretly, of course. And you would really rather it stay that way.

“If you’re going to make me guess who, that will end this conversation.”

“I will spare you the game if you insist, it’s about Aradia.”

“Fuck.” You hiss into the receiver. No fucking way. You can’t do this shit again. “Don’t you dare tell me that she’s dead.”

“H-how did you…”

You roll your head back in a groan, “Jade fucking Harley psychic extraordinaire.”

Kanaya lowers hear voice as though she’s afraid someone will hear, “What else did she say?”

Shaking your head you try and shrug off the urge to do the same, “Nothing, just that because today is Sunday that means she’s definitely dead?”

“She was in a vehicular altercation on Friday night.”

“Okay let’s just straight up agree that we cannot let Jade know she was right about this.”

“I concur.”

You’re both whispering now, although you know for certain nobody who’d give a shit is hanging around hoping to catch some juicy titbits.

“How is she?” Kanaya asks, still whispering.

“Fine, I guess.” You rub your face with your free hand, “I don’t know. I said like two words to her.”

“Would you like my advice?” She asks.

“Fuck no.” You respond, already knowing that she is going to give it to you anyway.

“You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“Yeah okay, I’ll get right on that.”

“I am serious, Dave,” Her voice is soft, and just louder than her previous secretive tone, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks for the pearl of wisdom and all, but I’m really not in the mood to have a nice long heart-to-heart about my colossal fuckups, okay?”

“You’re never in the mood to discuss anything pertaining to your innermost thoughts.”

“Wow you’ve got me all figured out, can I go now?”

She sighs, “Yes I suppose so. But tell John to answer Jane when she call him next, she is quite concerned.”

“Okay.”

“And Dave,” You roll your eyes at her incessant stalling, “I am willing to assist you in your pursuit of Jonathan, if you would only ask.”

You hang up without even dignifying her with a response.

Honestly, sometimes you find Kanaya pretty cool. She’s nice enough, and possesses your required level of sass in a friend- but god fucking almighty does she need to mind her own business.

You don’t talk about Jade, and people don’t talk about Jade around you. Except John, but even he avoids the sore points of conversation. And how are you not supposed to blame yourself? What the fuck does Kanaya know anyway?

You were supposed to look out for her. You were supposed to be there. And you weren’t, end of story.

The people who reassure you that this is the best place for her, and that it was only a matter of time anyway, are full of shit. Jade Harley is a competent human being and does not need set bed times and organised activity.

Sure, she collected frogs thinking she needed them for some kind of super secret greater purpose. She was eccentric, that’s what you liked about her. She was genuine, like she didn’t have to pretend. It made her simultaneously the biggest nerd in existence and the coolest person you’d ever met.

She always had this obsession with the future, though. She was convinced she could see it in the stars, or the clouds, or something. She was almost always right, which freaked you the fuck out at first. It took a while, but you learnt to love even her weird hippie tendencies.

Sometimes she’d wake up in the middle of the night and wander around outside in her pyjamas, and it was up to you to go and bring her home. You didn’t mind, she was your girlfriend, it was in the job description.

It started out harmless enough. You’d catch up to her and say something like “Alrighty that’s enough adventuring for tonight I think” And she’d say something like, “I just needed the air” or “the night is really pretty”, and then follow you back home.

But everything spirals, and sometimes became often, and then constantly. When you tried to collect her, she started telling you to go away, or that she had things she needed to do. And you started getting annoyed. Soon you stopped chasing after her at all, like you couldn’t give a shit.

When she went missing you realised that you really should have given a shit. She was gone a week before they found her, dishevelled and freezing to death out in buttfuck nowhere.

After a stint in the hospital she was thrown in here for ‘safekeeping’ or some aristocratic fucking excuse, and you haven’t visited her once.

You were always too afraid to. Not only because of what you did- or more accurately, what you didn’t do- but because you can’t even make it up to her. You accidentally fell in love with someone who you shouldn’t have. By now you really fucking ought to know better, but no. It’s not a party unless Dave Strider is making terrible decisions.

You pocket your phone and rub your temples, the rain is now beginning to pick up. Jade will be disappointed, you could tell she was excited to get out of here and spend some time in the real world again.

Heading back inside, Kankri glares at you, but you aren’t really in the mood to fuck with him, so you beeline for the door, scan your visitors pass, and head back down the corridor. The same sick sense of unease claws at your gut like a bad gas station burrito.

You tap on the door’s window with your knuckle and it swings open almost immediately.

“So?” John whispers harshly, “What did she want?”

“It was Kanaya.” You glance around the visitor’s area, looking for Jade. She’s watching you and John at the door from a table toward the opposite end of the room. She waves when you make eye contact, beckoning you over enthusiastically.

“Oh what, why did you say it was Jane then?” He scrunches his nose.

“Because she called on Jane’s phone, thought I wouldn’t answer if I knew it was her or somethin' I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Look, John, can we play 20 questions later, y’know, when Jade isn’t right fucking there watching us?”

“Alright, but… the thing?”

You suppress a sigh, this is fuckin bullshit.

“Yeah, it happened. Sweet tobasco Jesus we are not telling her.” He bites his lip and looks to the ground, almost as if he is about to cry. You feel as though someone falcon punched you in the chest. You can’t let him cry. “Can we hold off on the sads until we have thoroughly enjoyed this day with Jade?”

He clears his throat and wipes his nose quickly with his sleeve, “Yeah, okay!” You can see him trying so hard to stay positive and you almost smile. He can’t be real. “She has been waiting to see you forever!”

You follow him into the room towards the eagerly awaiting Jade. You expected to feel a bunch of shit that you didn’t understand, and think a bunch of things that you didn’t want to think, but when it comes down to it, all you feel is a numb futility, and all you can think is how weird it would be if you asked to hold John’s hand again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo this is a rather late update for ACTUAL REASONS THIS TIME OH MY GOD ITS NOT JUST THAT IM A LAZY PIECE OF TRASH [CROWD OF LIKE 2 PEOPLE GASP]  
> but yeah this is late bc I have been working on something else (its mainly dirkjake because of course it is) and its much more storyline driven than this clusterfuck- but I want to have four or five chapters done before i start posting it, just because that way im not going to have an aneurysm over how much fuckin writing I must write. depending on response and demand itll probably take precedence over this just bc I get bored easily like a small child that needs to be entertained.  
> anyway yes that is my excuse im sorry to all two of you who probably mind a little bit that this took for fucking ever to finish.
> 
> UPDATE 14/1/15- I will probably never finish this ha itll be a surprise if I continue it


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